


looking at the sun

by PrettyYoungThing



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Bokuto Koutarou is a Mess, Coffee Shops, M/M, Slow Burn, pretty much everyone
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-01
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:54:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 98,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25019620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrettyYoungThing/pseuds/PrettyYoungThing
Summary: "Of course! And can I get your number?" He splutters. "Your name - I mean your name."That's it. Time to die. He's going to finish taking the order, go out back, and request that Suga shoot him like a wounded racehorse.Either the guy is too distracted to notice the slip or too tired to care, and for once, Bokuto thanks his lucky stars that someone isn't paying all that much attention to him. "Akaashi."
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou, Hinata Shouyou/Kageyama Tobio, Kozume Kenma/Kuroo Tetsurou, Sawamura Daichi/Sugawara Koushi
Comments: 204
Kudos: 591





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which our protagonists meet and bokuto is a disaster.

Bokuto Koutarou is, in a word, disorganized. 

This thought has the decency to barrel through his mind as he hurriedly shoves aside the seemingly endless piles of dirty clothing and blankets on his bed, biting out a "come on, you little shit" for good measure. He rakes his hands through the roots of his hair before spying a sliver of orange textbook peeking out from underneath the heap of fabric. 

Thanking whatever god was merciful enough to grant him this small relief, Bokuto drops the book into the bag slung over his shoulder and almost trips in his haste to pull on a (very) well-worn pair of shoes. A ping from his phone draws his attention and he glances down at the screen.

(8:17) Kuroo: _dude_

(8:17) Kuroo: _are u planning on making me wait for the next century to roll around or_

If there's a way that Bokuto could smash his phone into about a million pieces and then reverse time so he could, you know, have a phone, he would have by now. His stupid phone alarm never worked and he'd have to wait until the next paycheck to get an actual alarm clock, hopefully one that would have any chance of stirring him in the mornings. He instead opts to shove a biscuit into his mouth and tap out a reply. 

(8:18) i'm coming i'm coming

(8:18) don't get your panties in a twist

(8:18) Kuroo: _panties are currently untwisted so hurry ur ass up_

Swallowing down the last of the biscuit, Bokuto quickly shuffles down the stairs of the dorm building and into the morning air. A girl jogs past, beads of sweat dotting her forehead and what sounds like classical music blaring from her headphones. Not exactly what would be his first choice, but to each their own. 

"Took you long enough!"

Bokuto turns to his left, greeting Kuroo Tetsurou - longtime best friend, fellow former volleyball player, and resident jackass - with a noncommittal wave. 

"I couldn't find my damn textbook for the life of me, man. And hey, we've still got, what? Ten minutes to get to class?" He grins at the eye-roll sent his way, giving Kuroo a quick once-over. "Nice socks." 

Kuroo looks down, evidently confused, and promptly groans at the sight of his mismatching red and green ankles. "Great. Can't wait to walk into this lecture looking like Christmas came early. Think I've got time to run back and change 'em?" 

"Absolutely not," Bokuto chirps. He grabs onto Kuroo's arm, making as if to drag him in the direction of their respective classes. "Tally ho!"

"You fucking dork, who's said 'tally ho' in the last, like, five hundred years?" Despite the protest, Kuroo allows himself to be hauled down the sidewalk for a few yards before deciding to actually make an attempt at walking. "Anyways, got anything cool lined up for tonight that I should be aware of?"

Bokuto wrinkles his nose. "Unless you call handling the closing shift 'cool,' no. I very much do not."

"On a Friday? That majorly sucks, dude. Kenma's thinking about breaking open some new game he got and I was gonna ask you to tag along and share a pizza."

"Aw man, I'm missing out on pizza too?" Bokuto huffs out a long sigh. "The things I do for a paycheck, I'm telling you."

Kuroo kicks at a pebble as they walk, doing his best to dribble and pass it to himself. When it goes sailing into the grass after a particularly assertive pass, he lets the corners of his mouth drop into a frown. 

"What an honorable working man," he chimes in a poor imitation of an old woman, grabbing Bokuto and patting his hair in mock affection. "Such a good example."

"Shut up!"

"I'm almost tempted to tell you to make me."

\-----

It's late April, warm and dewy, filled with sunny days and cool evenings. Everyone has settled neatly into a routine of their own, establishing their own infinitesimal places in the solar system that is their university, dashing between classes and hiding in small bookshops to giggle with friends under the pretense of studying. 

The university, nestled just outside of Tokyo, is large and filled with life. Bokuto is reminded of this as he glances to his left at a large green lawn, dotted here and there with clusters of people. On the weekends, they'll venture out into the city, finding clubs and restaurants in which they'll temporarily forget about the heavy course loads. Music filters through the air as he passes by some of them, some songs he doesn't recognize and others he does. 

This is what Bokuto loves the most: the easy cheer that accompanies the world's warmer months, a sort of heat that starts at the skin and flows inward. Granted, maybe his morning routine is less uniform than that of his peers, but he blames that on a shitty phone alarm which will no longer be of use soon. 

The day's last rays of sunlight, intermixed with shadows of dogwood leaves fluttering in a slight breeze, dapple the sidewalk as he heads toward one of the university's coffee shops. He stops for a moment, turns his face skyward, and inhales deeply, allowing an easy smile to dance across his lips. Life is pretty good, he thinks, and his steps now carry a tiny bounce as he begins to walk again. 

A familiar chime rings through the cafe as he opens the door to Fukurodani Coffee; there's a sweet aroma in the air, as always. 

The cafe is both charming and modern all at once. It sits on the corner across from a bagel shop (also frequented by university students), large windows on the walls that face the streets. An assortment of different hanging lamps and string lights bathe the shop's interior in a warm glow. Mismatched tables and chairs, salvaged from different antique shops and small markets for cheap, are scattered throughout, each with an accompanying charging station for laptops and phones. 

It's never uncomfortably quiet, nor is it ever too loud. Rather, it's a sort of safe haven for all those who find themselves worn out from their courses and in need of a refuge where they can chat with friends or put the finishing touches on a paper whilst sipping a sweet drink. There's a small baked goods section too, never wanting in its supply of prettily-arranged muffins and cake slices.

Sure, Bokuto whines when he's put on the closing shift, and sometimes he burns his fingers on a machine if he isn't careful, but he knows that he totally hit the jackpot at Fukurodani Coffee. It's a place of quiet joy and bubbly laughter, a small sliver of repose in the otherwise chaotic university's goings-on. 

"Hey, Suga!" Bokuto calls to the head of silver hair working the register. 

He's greeted with a familiar bright-eyed smile. Suga spares him a quick wave before taking an order, and Bokuto slips by tables to make his way to the back. He dons his usual uniform, and feels the usual twinge of pleasure at the way it matches oh-so well with his hair. 

Soon, he's at the counter, rubbing his hands together in anticipation of getting his hands on a cup to show the next customer his (Certified Awesome) Drink-Making Skills. In no time, a cup is in his hands and he's whipping up a cold blended drink, popping the lid on top with a grin and calling out a "Yaku!" 

The Yaku in question takes his drink and a straw with a grateful smile, dark circles under his eyes indicating a sleepless night (probably one of many, truthfully). He pokes the straw into the cup and takes a sip as he turns around. Bokuto catches a small sigh escaping from his mouth and smiles proudly. Yep, his drinks were always pretty damn good. 

Another half hour passes, and a ball of orange bounces into the cafe. Hinata Shouyou skips towards the back, shooting Bokuto and Suga an excited nod before slipping through the doors. A few minutes later he's beside Bokuto, topping off a drink with whipped cream, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet.

"What's got you in such a good mood?" Bokuto finally inquires, and it becomes immediately evident that Hinata has been waiting for someone to ask such a question. 

Hinata's face breaks into a wide grin. "Got an A on my last essay," he beams, a proud glimmer in his eyes. "It was a major bitch to write but it shot my grade up to an A-, finally!"

Bokuto ruffles his hair, causing flecks of whipped cream to fly onto Hinata's face. He pretends not to notice the smaller boy's finger swiping along his cheek and dipping into his mouth. "Nice one, little dude!"

"I'm not that little," the redhead grumbles, but the tiny grin that works around his frown betrays his otherwise-brooding facial features. 

"Sure you aren't, squirt," Bokuto hums, and this time he gets a finger of whipped cream right in the middle of his forehead. "Hey!"

Hinata giggles and hurriedly sets the whipped cream dispenser down, but not before Suga has a chance to turn around and whisper-growl for them to get back to work because he is "totally not paying them for stuff like that."

"Technically, you aren't the one paying us - you're just the shift manager," Bokuto reminds him, and is immediately threatened with table-cleaning duty. He clamps his mouth shut and mimes locking it, tossing the key over his shoulder.

They work in comfortable silence for a while, falling into a rhythm of passed cups and scribbled names. Hinata and Bokuto, for all their antics, work well as a duo, and can often get customers' drinks done in a fraction of the normal time. Every now and then, a latte order is sent their way, and they battle out a quick rock-paper-scissors to decide who draws a smiley face on top with foam. 

Outside, the sky dims, blue fading into a muted lilac, and the lights that wrap around the cafe's exterior blink to life, illuminating the surrounding pavement. Conversations inside are as lively as ever, though there's a small lull of students filtering into the coffee shop. Soft music winds through the air (Suga has always been a sucker for indie and in time, it's come to grow on Bokuto too). 

"Hey Bokuto," Suga says, "would you mind manning the register for a few? I've got to check on something in the back."

Bokuto hums his assent and shoots him a thumbs-up, taking his place at the front of the counter.

When it seems that Suga's out of earshot, he feels an elbow prodding at his arm. "Whatcha wanna bet he's calling Daichi?" Hinata asks, smirking. 

"Shut up, Shouyou," comes an irritated huff from the back, and Hinata blanches. He coughs out an apology, grimacing at Bokuto's poorly-hidden grin, and returns to the drink he was making. 

Bokuto glances down at the register, trying his best to resist punching at the small buttons - they're fun to press, okay? - and picks at a nail, waiting on the next customer. A song plays, one that he recognizes, and he hums along. He's just getting to the high bit (he's been working on his high notes, and though it's been a rather slow process he's sort of getting there) when the door opens. 

His eyes flick up, grateful for something to do, and he practically does a double take. Like in movies. Yeah, that kind of thing. 

The customer is a young man about his age (though probably ninety-seven percent of the clientele is college students anyways), dark-haired and lean in stature. He nears the register, and Bokuto takes note of the way his lashes frame his eyes perfectly. His hair, almost curly but not quite, tucks under his ears and flicks up here and there. He's dressed in dark-wash jeans and a gray hoodie, and yeah, Bokuto is into the look. 

He doesn't even notice that the guy has spoken until the second "um," and he snaps back into focus in record time. 

For the record, Bokuto considers himself very smooth. He might be loud and sometimes a little obnoxious - there are some who would argue that it's more than just a little, but he doesn't count them - but when it comes down to it, he's gotten pretty good at dialing up the charm. It takes skill to woo someone to your bed at a club, thank you very much, and he's got the pattern down. 

However, it seems that his brain decides to take the Charm Dial and rip it clean off the Charm Machine 9000, because Bokuto opens his mouth and completely forgets what to say. He stands there for a split second, mind reeling, before it all rushes back. "H-Hello! What can I get for you?"

"Just a vanilla iced coffee, please." His voice is quiet and even, without much enthusiasm. Regardless, Bokuto doesn't let his smile slip. 

"Of course! And can I get your number?" He splutters. "Your name - I mean your name." 

That's it. Time to die. He's going to finish taking the order, go out back, and request that Suga shoot him like a wounded racehorse. 

Either the guy is too distracted to notice the slip or too tired to care, and for once, Bokuto thanks his lucky stars that someone isn't paying all that much attention to him. "Akaashi."

"Alright Akaashi, we'll have that for you in a sec!" He hurriedly scrawls the name down on the side of the cup and gives it to Hinata, muttering that this better be the best damn vanilla iced coffee the redhead has ever made in his short life. 

Akaashi waits patiently off to the side for his coffee, not that Bokuto is like, keeping track or anything. If his eyes happen to wander over every once in a while, that's totally not on him. After what seems to be both an eternity and less than twelve seconds, Hinata is finished with the drink and hands it to Akaashi. He accepts the drink with a nod and exits the shop, Bokuto's gaze trailing his form as it turns the corner.

"Someone's got eyes for a customer," Hinata coos, and Bokuto throws a dirty dish towel at his head. "Oi, watch it!"

Suga pokes his head out to tell them to quiet down. They do, almost immediately. There are few things that Bokuto truly fears: centipedes, slipping on a banana peel and wiping out (it happens in American cartoons, so it probably happens in real life), and a provoked Sugawara Koushi. 

He's seen it before, when a man stumbled into the cafe drunk one night and proceeded to angrily grab Hinata by the collar. It ended with an extremely humiliated drunk man scurrying out of the shop, a fuming Suga with his hands planted firmly on his hips, and a consolation muffin which Hinata eagerly stuffed into his mouth. 

Students begin to file out, pushing chairs back into place and tucking laptops away into bags. Stars twinkle in the night sky and the occasional chiming of the bell rings through the air as the door is pushed open for the exiting crowd. 

That night, as he turns the chairs upside down onto the tables and sweeps pastry crumbs across the floor with a broom, Bokuto hums just a little louder than normal, and complains just a little less in his head. 

\-----

"I'm telling you dude, this guy is like, so beautiful. I think I saw a halo above his head." Bokuto is pacing back and forth across his room the next day, Kuroo's digitized face peeking out at him from where his phone is propped up on his nightstand. 

Kuroo quirks an eyebrow. "That beautiful, huh?"

"Yes," Bokuto groans. "And now I'm never going to see him again. Unless he comes back while I'm on a shift again, which is so not gonna happen because I made myself into the world's largest idiot-" 

"-you already held that title, buddy."

"Will you quit it? Aren't you supposed to be like, 'No Bokuto, he probably thinks you're equally charming and angelic and he's probably stalking you on social media as we speak'?" Bokuto pauses to frown down at Kuroo, whose face is frozen in one of his trademark smirks. Stupid wifi router. Does technology have it out for him or is he just genuinely that unlucky?

"Let me try again." Kuroo clears his throat for a painfully long time before inhaling deeply through his nose. "No Bokuto, he probably thinks you're equally charming and angelic and he's probably stalking you on social media as we speak."

"You're no help. Why do I talk to you, again?"

"Because I'm great and you love me to the ends of the earth."

"Oh yeah. How could I have forgotten?"

Kuroo finally unfreezes. Not that Bokuto would have really noticed had he not been watching the screen - Kuroo is still smirking, though his face is shifted slightly to the left. "Must've slipped your mind. Anyways, cheer up, dude. You'll see him again, for real."

Bokuto brightens slightly at this affirmation, even if he does know that it's primarily obligatory. Next time, he's totally going to charm the pants off of this Akaashi fellow. Well, not literally (at least not in public). But he's gonna be smooth. So smooth. 

Kuroo continues, encouraged by his friend's slightly sunnier demeanor. "And plus, aren't you getting your new roommate today? Maybe he'll finally encourage you to clean once in a while."

Bokuto freezes where he stands, eyes wide.

Shit.

Shit shit shit shit shit. 

Kuroo sighs. "You totally forgot, didn't you?"

Bokuto's face drops as he looks around the tornado alley that is his dorm. He buries his face in his hands. "Fuck, man. Look at my goddamn dorm." He flips the camera around and pans it across the space, whining inwardly when he hears Kuroo's low whistle. 

"You might want to think about employing a little damage control there, bud."

"You think?" Bokuto moans, surveying the mess. Books litter his desk and floor, clothes lay at the base of his closet, and a week's worth of water bottles cover the surface of his night stand. His bed is no better, and he's ninety percent sure that the closest thing he has to a proper meal in his pantry is a case of instant ramen packets. "Feel like coming over and helping out with that?"

Kuroo scoffs. "Absolutely not. In twenty minutes I will be sitting my ass on the couch next to Kenma and watching Sharknado 3. I thought you knew it was today!"

"I had something else on my mind!" 

Bokuto is already shoveling as many shirts as he can hold into his grasp and hauling them onto his bed. He runs back to the closet and retrieves an armful of hangers, hoping that they'll somehow be enough to hang up the majority of his clothes.

Kenma's quiet voice barely registers through the phone's speaker, and Kuroo re-emerges on screen. "Sharknado 3 is almost ready for liftoff. Tell me if your roommate ends up being hot," he teases, and Bokuto shoots him a glare. It's a bit tough to do so when his eyes barely make it over the mound of pants and socks in his arms, but he manages. The phone beeps, signaling the end of the call, and he waddles over to check the time. 

Eleven thirty in the morning, so three hours until his new roommate will be there. He can totally get everything in order by then. 

Bokuto drops the load of clothing onto his bed and grabs at his phone, scrolling through his music to land on a particularly upbeat playlist. God, what if his roommate hates rap music? What if he listens to - ugh - some awful slam poetry shit? He pushes the unwanted thought aside and instead turns the music up to full blast. 

Hours trail by as Bokuto picks through his dorm. Slowly but surely, things begin to fall back into place; the kitchen counter can be seen once again and for the first time in ages, his bed sheets are neatly tucked into their corners. The couch is cleared of all remnants from past movie nights and trash is taken out. 

At two in the afternoon, half an hour before his roommate arrives, Bokuto stands back to admire his handiwork. _Not half bad_ , he thinks to himself, grinning at the newly-organized dorm space. His textbooks are gathered in a uniform stack at the foot of his bed, and all clothes have found their places in his closet. The floor is free of debris, and his three potted plants (which have yet to be named) sit in a row on the windowsill above the desk. 

Ultimately, he's pretty proud. This is all going to be temporary of course - he'll wind up falling into his usual cycle of organized chaos and disarray, but hopefully his roommate can deal. Bokuto finds himself sending a quick wish out to whatever cosmic forces govern his life for a sort-of-cool roommate. Well, anyone better than his last one, which is really not all that tall of an order to fill. 

It wasn't like he disliked Terushima all that much; on the contrary, he was a funny guy and put up with a lot of three a.m. questionable music choices. But holy hell, did the guy have a sex drive. Sure, Bokuto was as hormonal as any healthy young adult male, but Terushima was in a league of his own. 

He wasn't ugly, with blond hair, a strong build, and a pair of twinkling eyes, which made for lots of successful bar runs on weekends (and some weeknights, if he was feeling particularly pent-up). Bokuto found the guy attractive, sure. Unfortunately, so did about half of the planet, by his estimations. If Bokuto could have given him an award, it would be for the most one-night stands in two weeks. 

It was almost impressive. Almost. It wasn't impressive, however, because for every time Terushima found himself the lucky winner, Bokuto found himself sleeping on Kuroo and Kenma's couch. Granted, it was a nice couch, but his back could only take so much. When Terushima had announced his decision to find another dorm a few weeks into the new term, Bokuto had nearly cheered. 

The sun is high overhead by the time the doorbell rings. Bokuto is making his way through an apple on the couch, watching a subtitled Animal Planet rerun on snowy owls (because they're really cute, alright?) and practically springs to his feet.

His heart pounds the slightest bit, and he gulps down a deep breath to steel himself. Man, he really hopes his new roommate will be cool. Maybe he'll be loud and like rap music. Maybe he'll even watch Animal Planet. 

Bokuto grabs the doorknob and in a moment of internal strength, wrenches it open. In the subsequent one-point-seven seconds, his heart decides to do a triple backflip into his throat before plummeting into his stomach. Fuck nerves of steel. He's going to die.

"Uh, are you Bokuto? I'm supposed to room with him," says Akaashi From The Coffee Shop, a blue suitcase in his left hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello! if anyone actually sees this, i'd genuinely appreciate if you spared some kudos or let me know what you think in the comments!


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which we meet a few new friends and bokuto eats Real Food.

Bokuto allows himself a split second for his soul to leave his body, visit heaven, and tell him what it's like before he replies.

"Uh, yeah, that's me!" A clumsy grin works its way across his mouth and he hopes he doesn't look too dopey. "Why don't you, ah, come on in?"

"Thanks," Akaashi says with what looks to be the beginnings of a small smile, lips barely quirking up at the corners, and Bokuto's lungs are about four milliseconds from imploding and leaving him to drop dead on the floor. He hurriedly moves aside for Akaashi to pass, holding the door open.

Akaashi looks around the dorm, surveying what are now his living quarters. Bokuto spots an energy bar wrapper a foot away and casually sidles over to trap it underneath his feet. He waits until Akaashi's back is turned and swipes it off of the ground, shoving it into his pocket.

"It's pretty neat in here," Akaashi says simply.

Bokuto puffs out his chest a little bit, doing his best to lean casually against the couch's arm. "Yeah, what can I say? Tidy space, tidy mind - that's my mantra."

Akaashi hums his agreement and walks over to the windowsill, peering down at the small succulents perched there with interest. "You keep plants?"

"Yeah, I guess," Bokuto laughs, rubbing the back of his neck. "It isn't all that hard. I water them maybe twice a month."

His new roommate sets his suitcase down on the bed, then walks outside to retrieve a few more bags from where he had seemingly set them beside the door. _His hands are well-manicured, like the rest of him_ , Bokuto notes, and shakes his head. No, he is not going to keep staring at his roommate. Bokuto Koutarou is a man of class and that is a very un-classy thing to do.

Instead, he moves into the tiny kitchen area and pulls a glass from one of the two cabinets there. Their university had been blessed with funds from a variety of wealthy donors in its earlier days, and had opted to construct larger dorms in the hopes that more trust fund kids would express their appreciation for such amenities to their equally wealthy parents. "Do you want a glass of water or something?"

"That would be great." Akaashi is now taking neatly folded clothes from the bags and placing them in piles on the bed. How the hell is this dude so organized? Bokuto's packing strategy involves shoveling as many pairs of pants as he can into a trash bag and then moving on to the next item of clothing.

He quickly fills the glass with water and hands it to Akaashi, who takes a small sip and sets it beside him on the floor. He begins to place v-necks and the occasional sweater on hangers, gently pushing aside Bokuto's (much less wrinkle-free) shirts to the side and placing his in the excess room.

When he's finally done with his clothes, he begins to withdraw more items from the bags: a canteen and laptop from a black backpack, a coffee mug and baseball cap from the suitcase. Each item is tucked into its own small space, and by the time he's finished, it seems as though Akaashi is already more well-accustomed to the dorm space than Bokuto is.

"Man, how are you so put together?" Bokuto marvels aloud, which elicits a quiet chuckle from where Akaashi is sitting.

"I'm really not," he admits, and turns so his back is propped up against the bed frame. "I just like looking at a space and knowing I had a say in it."

Akaashi glances down at a black watch on his right wrist and straightens up before gathering himself up off of the floor. He brushes the backs of his legs and picks up his phone - encased in gray - from its refuge on the bed. "I actually have to meet someone soon. I hope it isn't too rude for me to leave so quickly."

Bokuto waves him off with an easy smile. "Not at all, man. You're living here, y'know? We'll have so much together time that you'll totally be sick of me by the end of the week."

"Thanks, Bokuto-san," says Akaashi, and lifts his hand in a quick farewell before he's out of the door. It shuts with a quiet click behind him, and Bokuto lets out a breath he wasn't even aware was trapped in his lungs.

(4:03) dude

(4:03) i'm either the luckiest guy in the world or the most doomed motherfucker on the planet

(4:05) Kuroo: _is he hot?_

(4:06) it's fuckin akaashi dude

(4:06) Kuroo: _holy SHIT_

(4:07) THAT'S WHAT I SAID

(4:09) Kuroo: _bro ten bucks says ur gonna fuck before the spring term ends_

(4:12) you are so nasty

(4:12) don't dirty his existence like that

(4:13) Kuroo: _ <3 _

\-----

After a little while of contemplating whether or not Akaashi already has keys to the dorm, Bokuto decides he probably does and grabs a jacket to head out. He elects to go to the library - say what you will about him, but he's generally a pretty good student and psychology is not as easy as it would seem.

A pack of gummies is stuffed into the front part of his backpack, followed by his laptop and a textbook. Technically, he's not really supposed to have food in the library, but it's just gummies and he's going to need sustenance, so he figures it's alright.

It's not cool enough for the jacket yet, so he does his best to scrunch it up into a ball (see above packing strategies) and shove it in his bag. It's one of those rare times where he actually stops and thinks ahead, though it always seems that this mentality is all but abandoned as soon as any sort of a worthwhile decision is to be made. Bokuto mentally pats himself on the back for this step in the right direction.

The walk to the library is a quick one, and Bokuto pops a stick of strawberry gum into his mouth, blowing the occasional bubble as he goes. He pulls out a pair of earbuds and spends two solid minutes untangling them (because those wireless ones are so expensive, and Bokuto is pretty much the epitome of the broke college student stereotype) and plugs them into his phone.

He scrolls through his playlist and settles on some instrumental lo-fi tracks. If he listens to anything else - particularly the rap that he loves oh so much - he's going to spend all of twenty minutes headbanging in the library before he's shooed out by an agitated librarian.

The library is as all libraries are: filled with quiet murmurs and the sounds of pages turning, pencils scratching and the occasional chime of a checkout machine. It has rows upon rows of shelves filled with books - more than any human could read in a lifetime - stretching along a huge floor. A large space in the middle is populated by desks large enough for four at a time, the chairs' green-blue seat cushions long since flattened.

There's a second floor, too, which is really just a wrap-around balcony sort of thing. It also has an insane number of shelves, though these are stuffed with older books, some of which probably haven't been opened in ten years. It's a bit odd that someone as excitable as Bokuto should love such a quiet space, but he loves it nonetheless.

He settles at a desk, pulling out his book and laptop, running through the motions of setting everything up. His paper on mental illness research in the twentieth century is bound to be a pain in the ass and if he wants to avoid pulling an all-nighter in four days, he should be starting in advance.

(For the record, he will most definitely start in on his procrastination streak soon. He just plans on trying to ride with the motivation that comes with the start of a new term for as long as it carries him.)

He opens up a word document and begins with the header, leaving a space for where the title will be. Titling a paper is one of the few academic joys of life in Bokuto's eyes. It's funny, that the last step to a paper is creating its beginning. Titles are both the end of one thing and the beginning of another, the close to hours of work and the opening to a piece all at once.

He's just into the second paragraph when a chair pulls out beside him, prompting him to pull out an earbud. He turns and is greeted with a freckled face pulled into a shy grin.

"Hey," the boy begins sheepishly. "Is this seat taken?"

Bokuto shakes his head. "Nope! All yours if you so desire."

The boy utters his thanks and slides into the seat. Bokuto looks at him for a second; his hair is a mousy brownish color and he has a dusting of freckles across the bridge of his nose and cheeks. He's skinny and a little on the gangly side, his frame swallowed in a sweater, but somehow not awkward in appearance.

A few minutes pass and his earbuds are back in before he feels a tap on his shoulder. The boy's lips are quirked up in an apologetic half-smile, and Bokuto removes the earbud again. "I'm so sorry to bug you like this. Do you happen to have a pencil I can borrow for a few minutes?"

"It's no problem at all," Bokuto assures him with a smile, and drags his backpack up to his lap so he can fish through the bottom for a pencil. After a minute of grumbling, he looks back up. "Is a pen alright? That's probably the best I can do."

"For sure, thanks a ton." The boy pauses, then adds, "I'm Yamaguchi, by the way."

Bokuto stretches a hand out. "Bokuto. Pleasure to make your acquaintance," he replies, and Yamaguchi shakes his hand, chuckling at the faux formality of it all.

They chat for a few minutes, and Bokuto learns that Yamaguchi is a communications major. He's in his first year of college, rooms with a guy named Tsukishima, and seriously misses his fluffy white cat from home.

"How're you liking your major so far?" Bokuto asks, and the response he gets is little more than a pained groan. "That bad, huh?"

"I mean, no, by relative standards, but they seriously just threw us into the work with no warning!" Yamaguchi cries, and is shushed by a nearby librarian. He shrinks into his shoulders a little and Bokuto laughs. "But seriously, I had kind of imagined it being - I don't know - a little easier from the get-go."

Bokuto nods sympathetically. "Tell me about it. It felt like I was rammed by a truck when the first exams rolled around." He watches as Yamaguchi's face drains of color and hurriedly tries to amend his mistake. "I'm sure you'll be fine though! I'm just a bit of a slacker by nature sometimes."

A small, relieved exhale exits Yamaguchi's lungs and Bokuto has to swallow down the laugh that bubbles up in his throat. He just seems so adorably overwhelmed by everything that Bokuto is fighting off the instincts that are screaming at him to give the brunet a hug.

"Are you adjusting to things okay, though?" Bokuto prods. It had taken him a little while for his sleep schedule to adjust, and there were a lot of differences between his high school life and that of the university. Learning how to use joint washing machines was a struggle in itself. "If you need advice or something, just ask."

Yamaguchi brightens a little, and a smile works its way up his lips. "Yeah, I'm doing alright. My roommate is a little stiff but I can tell he's not as cold as he likes people to think. I'm gonna crack him open, just you watch."

Bokuto believes him. Yamaguchi radiates a quiet warmth through his soft smiles and the sprigs of hair that stick up in the back. He's almost reminiscent of a puppy. There's absolutely no way anyone could watch him as he rattles on about his hobbies and not want to be his friend, cold exterior or not.

Before he even realizes what he's doing, Bokuto's hand is on his phone, handing it over to Yamaguchi. "Here, add yourself in as a contact."

The brunet obliges, and Bokuto shoots him a quick text with a smiley face at the end. "Don't be afraid to reach out if you need anything, 'kay?"

It seems as though Yamaguchi is going to protest, probably insist that he doesn't want to bother his senior, and Bokuto feigns putting his hand over his mouth. "I mean it. I'm not just saying that because I feel bad for you! You seem like a cool kid."

"I'm only a year younger than you!"

Bokuto clicks his tongue. "Respect your elders, young man. Especially if they're offering to treat you to coffee sometime."

"Coffee?" Yamaguchi perks up again. Bokuto can practically see his tail wagging. "You mean it?"

"Depends on how nice you are to me."

Yamaguchi ducks his head in a half-bow, and pitches his voice into some sort of an accent that Bokuto can't quite make out. It sounds very proper. "Oh, wise and honorable Bokuto-san, would you please spare me a morsel of caffeine someday?"

"But of course, young one." Bokuto is doing his best to imitate the accent Yamaguchi was using and he's pretty sure it sounds more like he's an avid smoker, but he keeps with it anyways. "Just stop by Fukurodani Coffee tomorrow between two and seven."

Yamaguchi eagerly agrees, and promises that he'll try and drag his roommate along "so he can eat some real food, oh my god."

They work for a while, chatting easily in the breaks between paragraphs and turned pages. Bokuto's music, long forgotten, reaches the end of his playlist and begins cycling through the songs again. He finally thinks to check his phone, and is surprised at the sight of the clock on the lockscreen.

"Damn dude, it's already been over two hours." He chuckles. "That's probably the longest that I've consistently worked without checking my phone in my whole life."

Yamaguchi applauds this accomplishment, and Bokuto begins packing his things up. He pulls on his jacket, taking a moment to find the opening of his head, and waves a goodbye before weaving through the tables to the library's doors.

He's glad his jacket is on; the air outside has grown chilly and the horizon is slightly muddled with thin gray clouds. He exhales and watches as the cloud of breath floats up into the air before disappearing entirely. His stomach growls and he frowns, looking around in the hopes that nobody heard.

Wait.

He swings his backpack around so it's at his front and reaches into the first pocket, fishing through the contents before his hand makes contact with a small plastic package.

"A-ha!" Bokuto cheers, and tears the corner off of the packet of gummies. He knows in the back of his mind that they have virtually no nutritional value, but they taste really good and he'll be home soon anyway.

One is popped into his mouth and he chews on it happily, watching the wispy clouds slowly trail across the evening sky. His thoughts inevitably begin to shift toward the matter of dinner (and what the hell he's going to whip up out of instant ramen and whatever else he has stashed at the back of his pantry).

He reaches his building and takes the steps two at a time, mentally patting himself on the back for not being winded afterwards. _Still got it_ , he thinks, and opens the door to his dorm with a little more confidence.

A rich aroma greets his nose as he steps inside and his eyebrows furrow. Who the hell was inside? Did some creepy stalker break in and decide on a hearty meal before charging Bokuto and cutting him into travel-sized blocks?

"Hey," Akaashi says from in front of the tiny stove, and Bokuto practically jumps out of his skin.

"Holy fuck," he pants. His pulse is screaming through his veins and he feels like the biggest loser on the planet, but at least he's not gonna end up as someone else's main dish tonight. "I completely forgot that I live with another human being. I swear I'm not usually that paranoid."

Akaashi laughs, and the thought that it is a very nice sound registers somewhere in the back of Bokuto's head. "It's all good. You shriek like someone stabbed you."

"For a second there, I thought someone was about to," Bokuto groans, and earns another small chuckle. "What're you doing, anyway?"

"Making dinner," Akaashi says simply. "I hope you don't mind that I dug around in the pantry for ingredients?"

Bokuto's stomach growls happily, and he covers his stomach with both arms in an attempt to muffle it further. This does not work. "God, no. But you didn't have to do that, man."

"It's no trouble," the other replies. "I don't mind."

He motions for Bokuto to sit at the table and pulls out two bowls from one of the cabinets - he must have been there for a little while before Bokuto got back, if his ability to locate what he needs is any indication. Bokuto can't help but feel a little rude.

"You weren't like, here for ages while I was out, right?" He asks, and Akaashi shakes his head.

"Not for that long, maybe a little over forty-five minutes." Akaashi is now serving out what seems to be ramen from the small pot, and Bokuto's confusion probably shows on his face because his ramen never looks nor smells that appetizing.

A bowl is set in front of him and he utters a very excited thanks before looking into the bowl and seeing what's definitely the nicest serving of instant ramen on the planet. "Wow, Akaashi! You can cook?"

"Not much," Akaashi says, though the tips of his ears redden slightly at the praise. "I just picked up a couple things here and there from my mom as a kid."

Bokuto hums appreciatively at the first taste of the food. His taste buds are rejoicing. They are skipping in circles and chanting Akaashi's name in worship, and Bokuto almost joins in. He expresses his gratitude at least three times in the next ten minutes, and each time it is met with a polite reply from the man across the table.

Akaashi is far from talkative, but he seems to be a good listener, so Bokuto talks in the gaps of the meal, tells him about where he grew up and what his family is like. The occasional nod or noise of interest spurs him forward when he lulls, and he is at the bottom of his bowl much sooner than he would like.

He waits for Akaashi to finish and quietly excuse himself before getting up and washing the dishes. Normally this is a weekly activity, but he feels inspired by Akaashi's productivity and thus doesn't mind lathering up the bowls with soap (not even when his finger touches a piece of wet food).

Akaashi is at the desk by the time he is done, head bent down to scan the pages of an enormous textbook. It genuinely hurts Bokuto's back to think of lugging that monstrosity to and from classes, and he feels a spark of pity for his new roommate. Whatever the hell that guy's studying, Bokuto wants absolutely no part of it.

He plops down on his bed and elects to message Kuroo because he doesn't want to disturb Akaashi and the alternative is like, picking at lint.

(6:52) what's poppin

(6:52) how's my little kuroo in the big wide world

(6:53) Kuroo: _i'm taller than u_

(6:53) we both know it's because of your hair don't get cocky with me

(6:54) Kuroo: _sounds like what people say when they're insecure bc they're short :)_

(6:55) fuck off

(6:57) wait don't i'm bored come back

(6:58) Kuroo: _so now u miss me eh?_

(6:58) don't be too flattered i just can't watch tv because akaashi is studying

(6:59) Kuroo: _on a SATURDAY?????_

(6:59) Kuroo: _#bokutosroommateisamasochistconfirmed_

(7:01) oh yeah you'd get a kick out of that wouldn't you

(7:01) ha ha real funny now entertain me so i don't die of boredom

(7:03) Kuroo: _if u did (hypothetically) die what would i get in the will_

(7:04) a postcard that reads "kuroo is a little bitch who let me die"

(7:04) Kuroo: _rude_

They talk for a while, about some things that don't entirely matter and other some things that do. Kuroo asserts that strawberry-banana flavored candies are the best and Bokuto quietly gasps in outrage before typing out a small essay about how mango is vastly better than strawberry-banana in every sense of the world and to think otherwise is a crime against the culinary arts.

Bokuto asks about how Kenma is doing - Kuroo always spends a while talking about his roommate and he figures he has time to kill anyways - and, as per usual, Kuroo dives into a lengthy explanation of what they did today. As it turns out, Kenma had earlier watched him walk into a light pole, and had taken a picture of him on the ground. Bokuto asks if he can see the picture, and is instead sent a selfie with Kuroo's middle finger high in the air.

After an hour or so of chatting and sending stupid videos with captions of "this is you lol," Kuroo signs off for the night, explaining that he has to catch up on some notes from a lecture he missed a few days back. Bokuto sends him off with a final jab about study habits, and the text receives a thumbs-down. Bokuto flips onto his back, opening a language learning app that he promised himself he would be more diligent with (because as much as he likes to believe that his English skills are stellar, he knows in his heart that they're questionable at best).

"You can watch TV if you like," Akaashi says after a while. "It won't bother me, if that's why you aren't doing it."

Bokuto sits up and swings his legs over the edge of his bed. "Are you sure?" He asks, not wanting to be an inconsiderate jerk to the guy who made them both dinner and is now trying to study for what must be the hardest curriculum the world has ever seen.

Akaashi turns to nod at Bokuto, who beams and thanks him. He pads to the couch and turns on the TV, switching through channels before settling on some sort of rom-com film from what looks to be the 1990s.

The plot is no better than average and there's absolutely no way any of that would happen in real life, but the music swells at just the right times and the actors look so charmed by one another that Bokuto can't help but watch it all anyways. In the final half hour it is revealed that the woman is a rich actress from another country who leaves the next day, and the man looks absolutely heartbroken. Bokuto feels tears prick at the corners of his eyes and hastily buries his face into the pillow for a second so his roommate doesn't see him weeping over an objectively bad rom-com.

The movie ends with the actress returning to the man's apartment after changing her mind as she was boarding her flight. She had dashed through the rain to a taxi and told him to drive like his life depended on it, and upon arrival stood sipping wet at her lover's doorstep. He marvels at the sight of her and scoops her up in a hug which ends in a kiss and this all works in tandem to make Bokuto slightly teary-eyed.

He looks over in Akaashi's direction and their eyes briefly meet. If Akaashi notices his state he says nothing, but Bokuto knows it'll eventually come up because he's a major sap. As soon as his roommate's eyes are back to the book's pages - no more than a fraction of a second later - Bokuto is furiously wiping at his eyes with the hem of his shirt. 

\-----

"And so I was telling her, 'I'm so sorry, but I'm very much a taken gay man,'" Suga laughs, and Bokuto wonders for the millionth time how someone can actually have a laugh so nice that it practically revives the dead. 

Hinata's eyes are shining with excitement under the lights of the coffee shop. "What happened then? Was she angry? Did she throw things?" He was always very interested in the possibility of physical altercations. 

"No, she didn't. But it would have made for a very interesting story if she did. She just went super red and apologized, and I told her it was totally fine." 

Hinata's shoulders slump the tiniest bit, but he smiles nonetheless.

Bokuto claps the silvery-haired barista on the shoulder. "Ah, our Suga. Always so popular with the ladies. Daichi is a lucky man, you know."

"I'm aware," Suga fake-huffs, and mimes flipping his hair. He excuses himself, telling his juniors that if they need him he'll be in the back for a while.

The door chimes as it opens, and in steps Yamaguchi, a very tall blond man in tow. He catches sight of Bokuto and waves animatedly, nearly skipping to the register.

"Hi!" Yamaguchi greets, the pale green of his sweater offset by the tanned hue of his skin. His hair is tied back in a small ponytail, sprigs of hair that are too short to be gathered framing his face. 

Bokuto shoots him a pair of finger guns. "Hey, hey, hey!" He exclaims, drawing a few pairs of eyes in his direction from the tables closest to the counter. 

"Bokuto, this is Tsukki, my roommate!" Yamaguchi gestures to the near-expressionless boy standing next to him. Glasses sit perched upon the bridge of his nose and though his face betrays few thoughts, it's clear that Tsukishima is not the friendliest person to walk the earth. 

Bokuto waves nonetheless, stretching his face into his customer-service grin. "Nice to meet you! Yamaguchi was telling me you're in need of some 'real food?'"

"I'm fine, thanks," comes the curt reply, and if Bokuto wasn't trying to be nice for the sake of his new friend, his face would have definitely fallen flat by now. 

"Come on, Tsukki," Yamaguchi all but whines. "You've been living off, what? Tea and the occasional sandwich for like, a week."

Tsukishima huffs, casting a sidelong glance at the smaller figure beside him. "Will you stop bugging me about my eating habits if I get something here?"

"No guarantees, but this would definitely help your chances," Yamaguchi beams.

Five minutes later, the duo is sitting at a table for two by the window. The light seeping in seeps through Tsukishima's hair, setting it alight with a soft glow. His expression is still unreadable as Yamaguchi chatters on; maybe it's a trick of the light, but Bokuto thinks he almost catches the faintest hint of a smile tugging at the boy's lips. 

"They're an unlikely match," Hinata says from where he's standing at the counter, eyes flickering back and forth between a blender and their table. "The tall one seems mean, but the shorter one gives me a nice vibe."

"He's in your year, you know," Bokuto says, and nudges him with an elbow. "You should make friends with him if you see him again." 

He and Hinata chat for a small while and eventually switch places when Bokuto expresses his desire to work on some latte art. Hinata begrudgingly takes the register, and chirps a greeting to everyone stepping up to order.

Well, he does until a tall boy with straight, black hair walks in. Bokuto is washing out measuring tools when he hears an agitated groan from the redhead, and turns around. Hinata's face is twisted into a grimace at the sight of the new customer.

Bokuto is about to ask why Hinata looks like he just caught sight of roadkill when the boy is at the register, and Hinata is suddenly squawking at him.

"God, Bakageyama, don't you have something better to do than turn our nice little coffee shop all gray with your brooding?"

"I don't brood, dumbass! I just want a coffee because I barely got any sleep last night!"

"You're the dumbass, dumbass!" 

Bakageyama (though Bokuto is willing to bet that it's an unfortunate nickname rather than whatever's printed on his birth certificate) mutters something about professionalism and good sportsmanship in the workplace and Hinata practically fumes. 

"Whoa, whoa," Bokuto says, deciding that he should probably intervene before Hinata throws a cup at the guy's head. His fingers are twitching and it seems that he's fighting off the urge to lunge across the counter. "Hinata, you take the drink station and I'll take the order, alright?"

Hinata continues to glare at the boy across the barrier of faux granite.

"I said, alright?"

The redhead inhales deeply, grumbles out an "alright," and stomps over to the row of blenders. Bokuto sighs and averts his gaze from the ticking pipe bomb, plastering a smile on his face that he hopes reads: "everything is great!"

"Can I get a matcha blended drink?" 

"For sure. And your name?"

"Kageyama," the boy sighs exasperatedly.

Unfortunate nickname indeed. Bokuto scribbles the name down and prays to every cosmic being out there that Hinata doesn't try and spike the poor guy's drink with arsenic. 

For the record, Hinata doesn't, and Kageyama is able to sit without any further issue, even if it is the farthest table possible and Hinata blends the next few drinks with a little more intensity than is necessary. 

"Yo," Bokuto whispers to the redhead, "what's your guys' deal?"

Hinata rolls his eyes. "The dickhead wasn't looking where he was going a few days ago and we crashed into each other on my way to class. He got coffee all over the two of us and I had to run back to my dorm to change." 

Bokuto makes a noise of sympathy as Hinata continues. 

"Plus, he's in the same major as Nishinoya and Tanaka so I keep seeing him around and he's so rude," he complains, and if eyes could shoot lazers Kageyama would be nothing more than a scorch mark on the cafe floor in three seconds flat. 

"Well, if he's in engineering then he might be so cranky because he's so worn out all of the time," Bokuto offers, though Hinata shakes his head with fervor.

"No way! Tanaka and Nishinoya are always so fun and happy all the time, and they're in your year, so I bet their course loads are even heavier!"

 _That's probably because they're Nishinoya and Tanaka_ , Bokuto thinks, but simply nods his agreement and ruffles Hinata's head, who cries out in protest. It's true, though; they're probably the only people in a fifty-mile radius who could beat him in a contest for Most Excitable Guy In All Of Japan. 

His thoughts drift to all the work this coming week is going to bring and begins mentally calculating the amount of headaches he's going to be enduring. He's made little progress on his paper since yesterday and with the way he's itching to go bother Kuroo after his shift, the likelihood of any being made today is slim. 

Of course, his work load probably pales in comparison to that of his roommate. Bokuto shivers at the thought of lugging around that gigantic menace of a textbook and sends Akaashi mental kudos for staying sane. 

Thoughts of Akaashi linger in his head for a few moments longer than they probably should, and when he realizes this, Bokuto shakes his head as if to rid it of all thoughts of his pretty, raven-haired roommate. 

One final rogue thought flickers through his mind, and it unsettles him just a tiny bit. Akaashi is pretty; not just hot, as are so many of the people he's found at clubs to warm his bed, but pretty. Sort of like a flower. He decides that an orchid would be appropriate before shoving Akaashi from his mind and turning to the register once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> can you tell this one didn't come super easily? i always hate second chapters. i feel like i get momentum with the first and sprint and fall flat on my face >:/


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which bokuto reaps the benefits of physical fitness and is accosted by a friend.

A week passes, and Bokuto feels as though the only time he gets to relax is when he flops down on his bed, wraps himself up into a cocoon of sheets, and passes out for the night. He's constantly running; running from class to the dorm and back again, running to make his shift at the cafe and almost tripping over his own feet, running to drop off a forgotten pair of athletic shoes at Daichi's house.

It seems as though Akaashi has found himself in a similar situation, though his is comparably even worse. He's often up before Bokuto, who has begun to wake up at the sound of the shutting front door. He arrives to their dorm late and almost immediately throws himself into his work. The door will barely even click shut before he's at the desk where he so frequently falls asleep in the midst of reading. 

They barely talk all week - not that Bokuto takes offense to this, as he can clearly see his roommate running himself ragged - but an unspoken sort of mutual respect has begun to develop between them. It's almost a little funny, the ways in which they begin to adapt to life with another person around. Akaashi is businesslike, almost, in the way he conducts himself, whereas Bokuto is all things loud and excitable, but they have yet to argue, so Bokuto really can't complain. 

He learns that Akaashi is in med school and his respect for his peer shoots straight from "vaguely impressed from the size of his damn books" to "could probably mentally throw me across a stadium." Bokuto actually learns this not from Akaashi nor any of his mutual friends, though a certain Oikawa Tooru had already expressed that he would be more than happy to do a "quick social media scan" for him. Multiple times, actually.

(This offer was quickly declined because those background checks - because really, that's what they were - were never "quick." On the contrary, Oikawa could have probably chosen to work in an intelligence agency with the amount of information he always manages to gather during his digital hunts.) 

Instead, Bokuto learns this after a particularly long day at work; he's grumbling as he fumbles with the keys to their dorm, because who in their right mind tries to tell a barista that they don't know how to properly make coffee? As the door swings open he is thinking only of the world-shattering shower he's going to be taking in less than five minutes, but stops short at the sight of Akaashi slumped at the desk, face turned towards him and cheek smushed against the page of an open textbook. 

Bokuto quietly closes the door, previous irritations forgotten, and picks his way along the room to where Akaashi lays half-upright. He peers at the page from over the sleeping figure's shoulder and recognizes immediately the jumbled mess of medical jargon. He whistles lowly in appreciation for the genius that's sharing a dorm with him and once again is reminded of how glad he is to be majoring in psychology. 

He decides that the slumbering medical student in front of him should most definitely be woken up or else he's going to spend the next twenty-four hours wishing he was born without a neck.

"Akaashi." Bokuto prods at his roommate with a pointer finger and gets no discernible response. "Akaaaaashi."

It takes another minute at this to rouse Akaashi, who blinks once, twice, before wrinkling his nose and straightening up with a yawn. "Hello, Bokuto-san," he mumbles, and something inside Bokuto strains as he looks at the red-rimmed eyes gazing up at him, muddled with sleep. 

"Hey Akaashi," he says as quietly as he can muster - he thinks briefly back to lessons on using his "inside voice" as a child - and nudges Akaashi's elbow gently. "Why don't you climb into bed? You look pretty wiped."

"Can't," Akaashi mutters, staring blankly at the pages of nonsense that sit in front of him. "Got to learn about cells."

Bokuto laughs. "You can learn about cells tomorrow. All you want," he promises as he hoists Akaashi up from the chair he's found respite in. 

"'Kay, good."

Akaashi rubs at his eyes and shuffles toward his bed. Bokuto suppresses a grin at the clumsy manner in which Akaashi fumbles under the covers, wriggling so he's properly wrapped in his sheets. "Need anything else before I go wash up?"

He hears a mumbled "no" and dims the light on the desk so it's just bright enough for him to see any potential obstacles on the floor.

When he comes out of the bathroom, face washed and teeth brushed, dressed in boxers and a sweatshirt, Akaashi's soft snores float through the otherwise silent room. 

\-----

The weather grows warmer as the days stretch longer; it's not a noticeable change on a day-to-day basis, but Bokuto begins to notice in little ways. He has to water his plants just a tiny bit more now, and when getting dressed for the day he often forgoes a jacket. It still drizzles every now and then, but it's less of a torrential downpour and more of a prelude to summer storms, leaving the asphalt damp and the air ripe with the smells of rain. 

Bokuto loves running after it rains. The air is easy to take into the lungs and his feet hit the ground with a certain ferocity that they lack when the blazing sun beats down on his back. The world is lazy and calm and people are just beginning to emerge from their hiding spaces, and Bokuto can be the first to tear along a path dotted by pools of rainwater.

It's one of these days that he decides to go for a run. He leaves his phone on his bed (because the last thing he needs is to slip in a puddle and crack it - he's seen it happen before) and pulls on a lightweight athletic jacket over his black shirt. Compression leggings, a deep charcoal color, are tugged under running shorts, black with gray stripes running up the sides. He always makes a genuine effort to match on some level after a particularly bitter run in which Oikawa spent five whole minutes destroying his outfit choices. 

His keys are slipped into a zipper pocket and he ties his shoes, making a mental note to be careful and avoid mud when possible. The last thing Akaashi needs is to come back from wherever he was at and fall on his ass because his hurricane of a roommate didn't take the time to clean his shoes. 

Puffs of warm air escape from between his lips as he steps outside, mingling with the aroma of wet pavement and grass. He jogs in place for a moment in an effort to warm up before running. His habit of dashing into something at full speed before thinking it through has yet to diminish even in his young adult life, but his years of volleyball have drilled certain practices into him, and certainly for the better. It's a wonder he never pulled a muscle as a child.

He takes off, heart drumming in his ears and shoes colliding with the pavement at each step. Cool air rushes into his lungs and sets his chest on fire and he allows himself to speed up a little bit, reveling in the way the slight breeze ruffles his hair. He runs under a tree, its leaves laden with water droplets, and feels one run down his back. He barely suppresses a shiver at the feeling and pushes on.

Truthfully, Bokuto is a pretty good runner, by the standards of average people. He was never in any sports that required much of it, given that volleyball's range of motion is rather small and requires more short dashes and high leaps than anything, and yet it's always come rather naturally. He can run for a few miles before the ache in his legs prompts him to finally stop, their protests too loud to ignore any further. 

Sometimes he's able to convince a friend or two to be dragged along on his runs; Daichi is too good of a sport to say no, and even sometimes agrees to a short race, and Kuroo is always eager to test his limits with a set of sprints. Oikawa isn't a frequent companion but he's a good one, and if it weren't for his rigorous weekly schedule he would probably put more of a regular effort into exercising (the lucky bastard always manages to look good no matter what, so Bokuto isn't sure whether it would make much of a difference anyways). 

But for today, he's flying solo, and that means he can run as much or as little as he wants. He drops his speed a little as he goes, turning a corner and swerving to avoid a small child zooming past with a lollipop clutched gleefully in her fist. The chilled air seems to swirl through him, diving past his chest and into his stomach, all the way through to his toes. 

It isn't much longer before he spots a familiar head of dark hair a little ways ahead. Curiosity takes hold, as it so often does, and he urges his legs to carry him a little faster. He gains on Akaashi after a few moments. Well, not so much gains as almost barrels right into, but he stops himself just short of a collision and thus calls it a win.

"Out for a run too?" Bokuto manages through gulps of air as his body rushes to take in more oxygen. He's at Akaashi's side now, and it's really sort of unfair that his raven hair looks all playfully windblown whilst Bokuto looks like he barely survived a gale-force-winds-level hurricane.

Akaashi turns his head to look at Bokuto, as if jolted out of a trance by his presence, and allows his gaze to return to his path. "Yeah, I figured it's pretty nice out, so why not?"

Bokuto hums in contented agreement. 

"Do you run much?" He presses, eager to capitalize on this opportunity to get to know the other. They've talked here and there, but his knowledge of the other's personal life is close to zero and he's pretty sure the only reason that Akaashi knows anything about him is because he has a habit of getting carried away in conversations.

Akaashi attempts a shrugging motion, which should be awkward looking when one's arms are pumping back and forth but somehow works. "Sometimes. I don't always get the chance but when I do I like to go for a jog."

"You should join me sometimes!" Bokuto says excitedly, mouth opening before his brain has a chance to even consider whether it's an appropriate offer to be making. "My friends sometimes join me but it's like, so hard to gauge when everyone is free so we never get a group together. You're always welcome to come with, though!"

He's glad that Akaashi takes a moment to reply, because he's now seriously out of breath from stringing together multiple sentences as he runs.

"That sounds nice," Akaashi says finally, and though sentences like that are almost always dismissive, it somehow sounds so genuine rolling off of his tongue. "Are you sure your friends would be alright with me being there?"

"Of course!" Bokuto beams. "They're really great, even if Oikawa can be a prick about my clothing choices and Kuroo's life mission is to - well I would say 'give me gray hair before my thirties,' but I've kind of already got that covered."

He points to his hair, which is probably sticking up at all sorts of angles, and Akaashi chuckles breathlessly. 

"But really, they'd like you. They're not all like me - this loud, I mean. Daichi: great dude. He's totally protective in the funniest ways and Suga - his boyfriend - has limitless patience, but they can both also turn scary as shit, so I try not to make them mad." He wipes at his brow, dotted with sweat, and grins. "I love them, even if they're just as weird as I am."

He looks over and holy shit, Akaashi is actually smiling. Like, not a half-smirk or a quirk of the lips, but an actual grin, huffs of air escaping through his teeth as he runs. 

"They sound pretty cool," he agrees. "I'd like to meet them sometime."

"You totally should! What are your friends like?" Bokuto's calves are beginning to burn. Combining his solo time and the few minutes he's spent with Akaashi, he's probably verging on two miles, and his body is doing its best to voice all of its complaints. 

Akaashi swipes an arm across his forehead, and Bokuto is so glad that he's feeling a little tired too because there's no way he's going to ask to stop first like a total dweeb. He'll just wait until Akaashi gets tired and play it off casually. 

"I have a few friends that I've made through classes, but I can't really call them close ones," Akaashi admits. "They're nice guys, but I don't see much of them outside of studying and stuff like that."

Bokuto is ninety percent sure that that's the longest Akaashi's ever talked at one time and internally cheers to celebrate his victory. He does his best to keep his face from betraying his excitement at this success, because it would probably be a total dick move to smile when someone tells him that they don't have many close friends in college. 

"I'm sorry, dude. To be fair, the only reason I'm so tight with my friends is because we knew each other in high school," Bokuto assures him. "We were on different teams and all, but we ended up talking a bunch."

Akaashi perks up a little, eyes flickering between Bokuto and the path ahead. "I played volleyball too, actually."

Out of all things Bokuto had been expecting to learn about his roommate, this was definitely not at the top of his list. "Really? No way! What position were you?"

"I was a setter," Akaashi says. "Our team wasn't groundbreaking, but we did pretty well on average."

"Wow, awesome!" Bokuto crows. "I was a wing spiker! Would you ever toss to me sometime, Akaashi?"

"Sure, Bokuto-san."

They jog on, steps finding a rhythm with one another, nothing but wind and sinewy strength and the traces of rain glimmering in drops on the pavement and grass. The sky is a swirling mass of grays, some as dark as the wet sidewalk and others a pale ashen hue. Everything is quiet, so quiet, and at the same time flourishing with life. They are the only people in a world of rainy mornings and chirping birds. 

Akaashi is a much better runner than Bokuto would have thought to give him credit for. He keeps pace for another mile or so before his feet begin to drag, his intakes of air verging on ragged. And still Akaashi forges on, not even slowing to catch his breath. He's wiry and lean where Bokuto is built, and it almost seems as if the breeze almost serves as a buffer rather than a roadblock. 

Finally after another few minutes of his most valiant effort, Bokuto slows to a stop. Akaashi pauses a few steps after, sensing the lack of steps paced to match his own. 

"How - How are you still fine?" Bokuto wheezes, gulping down breaths of air, hands planted firmly on his knees as he hunches over.

Akaashi laughs breathlessly. "You held up for longer than I thought you would."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Bokuto asks, furrowing his eyebrows in mock indignation. 

"Well, you started huffing about half a mile back, and I was starting to wonder if I had chosen a kid with asthma as my running buddy for the day."

"You are so mean to me. How are you fine, anyways? Do you just never tire out?"

"Nah, I just ran in high school and kept with it."

Bokuto wrenches his hands from off of his knees and straightens up, inhaling deeply. "Was this your plan? To kill me from exhaustion and make fun of me as I die?"

"I can neither confirm nor deny, Bokuto-san."

They walk for a while, to nowhere in particular. Bokuto finds that Akaashi enjoys comfortable silences as much as he does conversation, and files that away in his head for future reference. Every now and then Bokuto pauses when he spies a particularly pretty leaf on the ground or catches view of a sleek white duck waddling fifty feet away, but Akaashi never protests or makes fun of his enjoyment.

Conversations are easy and light, full of talk about the joys and terrors of university life, simple jokes, and Bokuto's loud, ringing laugh. He manages to make Akaashi smile every now and then, and when he strikes upon a rare chuckle Bokuto can't help but grin as well. 

It's been a while since Bokuto left his house and even longer since he's eaten, and his stomach growls not long after this thought crosses his mind. He smiles sheepishly at Akaashi, who is trying his best to turn his laugh into a cough (and is very unsuccessful). 

"Wanna grab something to eat?" 

"Oh thank god. I thought you'd never ask," Bokuto sighs.

They come across a yakitori stand after another couple minutes of walking, and Bokuto nearly trips in his rush to get them a spot in line behind a couple. Akaashi follows not far behind, and stands behind the woman, who had evidently decided to wear the fuzziest hat in the world when she woke up this morning. Bokuto watches in glee as she tips her head back in a laugh and the top brushes Akaashi's nose, who turns to cover a sneeze.

They arrive at the front of the line and order, though Bokuto gets about four times the amount that Akaashi does because 1) he is feeling particularly hungry and 2) he wants to drop some off to Suga and Daichi because he's such a good person and friend. 

The walk home is relatively short - they had done some sort of elongated loop while out and were on the return route, evidently. The food is a welcome burst of warmth in a flurry of chilled air, and Bokuto hums appreciatively every so often as they walk. Akaashi seems to be equally entranced by his own food. 

They're nearing the dorm when Bokuto spies a flash of orange out of his peripheral vision. He squints at it, and sees a short redhead walking side by side with a tall boy with black hair. A double-take confirms his suspicions; Hinata is practically jumping up and down as he walks, the top of his head just barely grazing Kageyama's shoulder when both feet are on the ground. 

They seem to be bickering about something: there are fingers being pointed and every so often one of them scrunches their face up in a frown. Bokuto watches as Kageyama goes to flick Hinata right between the eyes and the shorter boy dodges, planting a swift kick to the other's shins. Kageyama clutches at his leg and Bokuto can almost make out the profanities being shouted before they're out of view. 

Bokuto sighs at the rush of warm air that awaits them as he opens the door. He plops down on the couch and hugs a pillow to his chest, relishing the feeling of becoming one with the furniture. 

"I'm going to take a shower," Akaashi says, and slips into the bathroom. A moment passes and he pokes his head out. "I'll be quick so you can shower soon."

Bokuto calls out his thanks as the door closes. The sound of running water quickly fills the apartment and Bokuto decides to fish through his container of food a little longer; it'll hopefully be enough so he won't have to eat again before his shift. He'll probably nab a muffin or two when he closes up. 

He's tossing the empty container into the almost-full trash can when the bathroom door opens, a cloud of steam seeping out. And holy fuck is Bokuto so glad that he's done eating or else he would have probably choked on his food because Akaashi is standing there wearing nothing but the towel wrapped around his waist. Bokuto hears the last circuits in his brain fizzle and die. 

"Ugh, sorry. I left these out here," Akaashi says sheepishly, and grabs the pile of clothes sitting on his bed before hurrying back into the bathroom and slamming the door.

Bokuto is still standing in the tiny kitchen area trying to keep his jaw from dropping open. It's almost as difficult as it is keeping his mind out of the gutter because apparently Bokuto's head belongs in the sewer with the ninja turtles.

"Sorry about that," Akaashi apologizes again, stepping out of the bathroom, now fully-clothed. Bokuto has yet to decide whether or not this is a good thing. 

"Uh," Bokuto manages through a cough, and he practically feels Sigmund Freud applauding him for his genius intellect from above. His brain starts whirring into motion again and he decides to speak up to refrain from sounding like a complete idiot. "Totally fine. No worries!"

He laughs and prays that it doesn't sound as forced to Akaashi's ears as it does to his own. Akaashi doesn't seem to mind, though; he's moved to his bed and settled on it, pulling his computer onto his lap and lighting his face with the screen's bright glow. 

Bokuto grits out something about getting in the shower and snatches the first set of clothes he can grab from their shared closet before making a mad dash into the bathroom, the mirror still clouded with steam. He turns the water on - making sure it's colder than normal - and steps in, hissing at the contact. 

\-----

A few days later, he gets a text from Oikawa.

(5:54) Oikawa: _hello hello what are you doing at this moment in time_

(5:57) not a whole lot

(5:57) trying to find a pair of pants without stains on em

(5:58) Oikawa: _why are all your pants stained_

(5:58) Oikawa: _nvm i realized i very much do not want to know_

(5:59) NOT THAT SORT OF STAIN

(6:01) Oikawa: _ooooookay sure_

(6:02) between you and kuroo i think you've racked up enough Sin Points to send yourselves straight into hell

(6:02) god doesn't even need to check his list you get express passes for the trip there

(6:04) Oikawa: _you're just mad that I've gotten laid recently and you haven't <3 _

(6:05) AM NOT

(6:05) Oikawa: _oh but you so are!_

(6:06) Oikawa: _anyways wanna grab dinner or go do something i haven't seen you in at least a week_

An hour and a half (and a lot of "Bokuto is touch-starved" jokes) later, Bokuto is standing in front of a small family restaurant, looking up from his phone every now and then to scan for a head of milk chocolate hair. He's dressed well, he thinks; before leaving his dorm he'd run through the short mental checklist labeled Are You Going Somewhere With Oikawa And If So This Is How To Ransack Your Wardrobe So He Doesn't Upstage You Like Always.

Without fail, Oikawa always upstages him, but that's really because he's Oikawa and he upstages everyone. It's his thing. 

"Yoo-hoo!" A voice calls, tearing Bokuto's eyes up from his screen and leaving them to land on a figure jogging over from across the street. Some car rolls down the window so the driver can yell about not crossing in traffic and is rebuked with a stuck-out tongue. 

Bokuto grins, waving madly. "Hey, hey, hey!" 

Oikawa gives him a once-over as soon as he's close enough to properly assess Bokuto's choice of clothing. "Nice, Kou-chan. If I didn't know any better I'd even say you're learning."

"Shut up." Bokuto pretends to stumble and fall over, nearly toppling Oikawa in the process. He's met with a glare and snickers at the way Oikawa purses his lips. "My bad." 

He pushes the door to the restaurant open, bowing as if for royalty, and makes a sweeping motion to usher Oikawa in. The restaurant is filled with the eager chatter of families and students from the university, and a faint sizzling sound can always be heard seeping under the door to the kitchens. 

For a small restaurant with outdated decor and windows that rattle when the wind blows with a particular ferocity, it's a charming place. The booths have holes at the corners and the tables have been scratched by years of use; the staff yells to one another amid the usual ruckus. Above all else: the food is good and the prices are low, everything a university student could desire. 

They wait for a moment before a hostess guides them to a booth for two and they slide in. Bokuto opens his menu and feels his mouth water. It's been a while since he's been able to come here, because it's really the sort of restaurant that's best enjoyed with other people and Oikawa is always running himself ragged in the business course. 

"How've you been?" Bokuto pipes up after scanning the menu. "Any word on the Iwaizumi situation?"

Oikawa groans, rolling his eyes. "Not much, no. He's so damn hard to get a reading on, you know? Unless he's roasting the absolute dog shit out of me."

"That's part of his charm, isn't it?" Bokuto asks, and winks exaggeratedly across the table. "Iwaizumi's the one guy who can bring your ego back down to Earth every now and then."

Oikawa's left eyebrow twitches. 

"My ego is of the perfectly normal sort. Iwa-chan is just mean to me," he huffs. "And totally blind! I keep sending signals his way and he doesn't do a single thing about any of them!"

Bokuto decides on tonkatsu, because there's probably nothing in the whole world that sounds better right now. "What kind of signals?"

The brunet is stirring his water with his straw, eyes trailing the movement as it swirls around his glass. "The works. Shoulder touches, laughing louder at his jokes than other people, inviting him to study at my place when Kunimi isn't around. And what do I get for my prolonged efforts?"

He looks at Bokuto expectantly. 

"Nothing," Bokuto obliges.

"Absolutely nothing! Just more 'Shittykawa' remarks! I'm going to go bald early from the stress, Bokuto!" Oikawa practically wails. The sudden jolt of him slumping back in his seat has his straw flinging droplets of water onto the table. A waitress comes by to take their orders and at the sight of the table, takes a few extra napkins from her apron and sets them in the middle of the two. 

Bokuto leans forward, careful to not press his hand down on any of the tiny puddles now dotting the table's surface, and pats Oikawa's shoulder sympathetically. "You're a cool guy, Oikawa! He's bound to notice sooner or later. Trust me. If anyone can get through to Iwaizumi, it's you."

Oikawa laughs, though traces of skepticism linger in his tone. He manages a smile and dabs at the spilled water with a napkin. "Thanks, Kou-chan. Well, what about you? Any cuties come around lately?"

"Yep," Bokuto hums, popping the "p." He waits for Oikawa to press the question, because Oikawa is a nosy little shit and always presses all questions relating to cute people in his friends' lives. 

"Well?" Oikawa presses, always on cue. "Boy or girl? Short or tall? I want details, you tease."

"Boy. That roommate I mentioned before - you know, the one you offered to stalk?"

Oikawa's face lights up in a devilish grin. "Kou-chan, you are such a sneak! You totally didn't want me to poke around through his social medias and see that he's hot, right?"

"No, no, no no no. Do not paint me as the jealous type," Bokuto protests. 

"Remember when you introduced me to that one girlfriend of yours and freaked out when I asked her for her number so she could tutor me in English? What was her name again? Ka-"

"I was seventeen and you always had a flock of girls following you around! What was I supposed to think?"

"She had a job as an English tutor and I was nearly failing my class!"

The waitress, who has now arrived to place their food in front of them, gives them an odd look before hurrying away to take more orders. 

Bokuto sighs through a mouth of food. "Anyways, no. I just feel wrong about snooping around in my roommate's life. Also, I get absolutely no gay vibes from him. The closest we've gotten to promiscuity is when he left his clothes outside the shower a few days ago and he came out in a towel."

"Holy shit, and you didn't tell me sooner? Was he hot?" Oikawa gapes. "Details, Koutarou, details!" 

"Shut up," Bokuto whisper-screams (because whispering has never come very naturally to him). "Do you want this whole restaurant to hear you?"

"I thought you liked me loud - _mmf!_ "

Oikawa is cut short by Bokuto's hand, which is now clamped firmly over his mouth. His hands scrabble at Bokuto's wrist, trying to pry it free - probably to make some more wildly inappropriate jokes - but make little progress. He gives up and lets them hang at his sides, brown eyes narrowing in bitter defeat.

"Now, will you be a nice little business major and let me tell you about my hot roommate in peace or do I need to shove a napkin in your mouth for that to happen?"

Oikawa sticks his tongue out and licks a stripe up Bokuto's palm to no avail. 

"Nice try," Bokuto crows. "I grew up with two older sisters. Your tricks do me no damage. Now, nod your head if you want to hear about my roommate." 

The prisoner nods, and the hand drops from his mouth.

Bokuto leans back in his seat and crosses his arms, chin tilted up in a declaration of victory. "To answer your question: yes, he was hot. He also exercises regularly."

An excited "ooh" comes from across the table and Bokuto nods his assent.

"But still," he sighs. "Probably not into dudes." 

"You could always introduce us - you know how good I am at picking out the gay ones," Oikawa coos. 

"And have you immediately dissect his wardrobe? Not a flaming chance."

Oikawa bats his eyes pleadingly; if Bokuto was a weaker man (and one who didn't know his friends so damn well), it might have worked. "Even if I promise to not comment on his outfit?" 

"We'll see how nice you are to me for the next few days and I'll consider the offer." Bokuto may not be the most subtle guy on the planet, but boy does he love playing the extortionist. He meets Oikawa's scowl with an innocent smile. 

They sit in the restaurant until they can't eat anymore and they've finished bickering about pointless things, like whether or not a bear would win a fight against a hyena (Bokuto is the one to instigate this, but Oikawa becomes very invested in his hyena claim and it ends up carrying on for no less than fifteen minutes). 

Oikawa's offer (threat?) of using his gaydar on an unsuspecting Akaashi slips to the back of Bokuto's mind. 

\-----

Well, he forgets about it until that Friday at about 8:00 p.m.

Bokuto is reviewing notes on his bed, flanked on either side by a pillow. He's really trying this semester; last year was about finding the flow, and this year is about absolutely crushing all of his classes, which he's actually managing so far. 

A knock sounds through the dorm. And then a second, and a third. All in extremely rapid succession. 

"I'll get it," Akaashi calls over his shoulder, already moving to open the door.

Bokuto replies with his thanks and lets his eyes drop back to the paper he's been rereading for the past ten minutes (it's an absolute fucking nightmare, even by his standards). He hears a familiar voice and his eyes shoot back up in fear.

Oh god, no.

"Hello, Kou-chan!" Oikawa simpers from the doorway. Behind him stand Kuroo, a terrifyingly smug grin on his face, and an exasperated-looking Daichi. "We brought drinks!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i actually got this one done like four days ago, but i figured i should post every week or so in order to keep myself in check in cases of weeks like these (super busy with commissions) :)


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which bokuto has a Very Straight roommate that he is not sexually attracted to at all.

If Bokuto lives through this encounter, his first order of business will be to march to Oikawa's place and wring his neck. He decides he's pretty nice for the most part, so one murder on his record won't outweigh all the good stuff he does otherwise.

"Oikawa," he says brightly, stomping extra on the way over. "I didn't know you were coming!"

Oikawa cocks his head innocently. "Ah yes, well I figured you've been working so hard lately that you deserved a drink! And I've been looking forward to meeting this new roommate of yours."

His gaze flickers to Akaashi, still standing with the doorknob in hand. "Nice to finally see you! Akaashi, right? Bokuto's told me good things about you."

"Has he really?" Akaashi's expression fixes itself into something bordering on confusion but not quite. He turns to Bokuto, who's losing years off his life with every passing second, amusement glimmering behind the veil of his eyes. "You talk about me, Bokuto-san?"

Bokuto sputters. "Well he offered to stalk you and I said I trusted that you weren't a serial killer, so if you count that as a compliment-"

"Yo, can we come in or are we going to sit out here and watch as you fail to form a coherent sentence?" Kuroo's mocking tone shoots through Bokuto's chest and he makes a mental note to add his name to the kill list. Daichi shoves him with an elbow, and he cries out dramatically before crumpling onto Daichi's shoulder. He is gracelessly pushed off.

"Ignore him," Daichi says to Akaashi from behind the doorway. "He's a jackass pretty much all the time."

"Noted," Akaashi nods, his assent drowned out by Kuroo's noise of protest.

He and Bokuto move out of the way and allow the three to step into the dorm, toeing off their shoes and setting them by the door. Kuroo takes off the red jacket he was wearing - a homage to his high school days - and tosses it onto the couch. Bokuto grabs it and flings it back at Kuroo, hitting him squarely in the chest.

"What the heck was that for, you drama queen?" Kuroo quirks an eyebrow.

Bokuto crosses his arms and tilts his chin up. "I take pride in a clean dorm. 'An organized space is an organized mind,' that's what I always say."

Kuroo scoffs. "You have literally never - and I mean _never_ \- said that once in your life."

"Have too!"

"Absolutely have not."

"Well I just did, so ha!"

"Bo, you know I love you, but there was like a six-month period last year where you couldn't even see the floor of your dorm. It was literally flooded with your junk."

Akaashi is, in the meantime, observing the ordeal from the relative safety of the kitchen counter. Oikawa's typing something out on his phone. When he seems satisfied with whatever it is on his phone screen, he turns the screen to Akaashi so the he can see. The raven nods solemnly, and they both erupt into quiet laughter.

"It was a little impressive, actually. We eventually had to intervene," Daichi interjects. "It took a full day of cleaning to get it back in order."

Bokuto groans. "Aren't you supposed to be on my side or something? And what're you doing over there?"

He eyes Oikawa and Akaashi suspiciously. The former waves him off noncommittally, shooting Akaashi a grin in the meantime. "Nothing, nothing. Don't you worry your pretty head, Kou-chan."

Bokuto responds with a whine, turning to Akaashi and flashing his best puppy eyes at his roommate. He's pretty good at it, he thinks. It works at least half of the time, but to be fair he mostly uses it on Daichi and Kuroo, neither of whom really have the heart to let him down often.

"C'mon, Akaashi! Don't keep secrets with someone like Oikawa! He's praying on our downfall, really!"

"Whatever downfalls you guys face are most certainly going to be of your own doing," Oikawa snorts. He's probably a little correct, but he doesn't need to hear that; it'll make a beeline straight to his ego.

Akaashi looks at Bokuto for another second before opening his mouth.

"Oikawa was just talking about how the fact that you and Kuroo made it past the age of sixteen without dying is proof that miracles do exist," he says simply.

Bokuto and Kuroo both turn and gape at Oikawa, who is doing a terrible job of muffling his laughter behind a closed fist. Daichi at least has the decency to turn his chuckle into a somewhat-convincing cough. Bokuto is preparing a world-class rebuttal in his head when Oikawa speaks up.

"Anyways, drinks!"

\-----

An hour later, they're all sitting at the kitchen table. A couple beer bottles lay here and there across its surface, discarded and left to clink when someone slams their hand down a little too forcefully. Nobody's drunk yet, at least to Bokuto's best observations, though a happy buzz fills the air.

Bokuto has the privilege to say he has a fairly high alcohol tolerance, even if it does tend to leave him a little more prone to bad ideas and a little less prone to thinking things through. Kuroo is the same way, to the point where they're often placed under someone's careful eye at parties, lest they sneak off and get caught trying to hop a fence at two in the morning. It's happened more than once.

But for now, nobody is drunk, and it seems as though nobody feels the desire to change that. Bokuto's eyes focus on Akaashi, who is laughing loudly - a sight that seems so rare but so worth the wait - and linger there for a second longer than necessary before he tears his gaze away. He wonders briefly if he could get Akaashi to laugh like that without the aid of beer, because it's such a lovely sound and it dances through the room like a beam of sunlight.

Kuroo is telling a story from their high school years, which is probably a bad idea if Bokuto wants to hold onto any semblance of hope that Akaashi will think he's cool, but right now he's so full of warmth that he doesn't mind. He's once again reminded of Akaashi's usually reserved demeanor and can't help but think that he wants to see this side of his roommate more often.

_Because he's fun_ , Bokuto thinks, and nods to himself. Akaashi, with all his careful planning and quiet jokes, is fun to be around, and Bokuto decides that he wants Akaashi to think the same of him. He hopes they've crossed the line between "roommates" and "friends" by now, but if not, he likes Akaashi all the same.

\-----

The alcohol is wearing off, bit by bit. The five of them are trying to cram themselves onto the couch to watch Train to Busan, because Kuroo is a self-proclaimed "horror film enthusiast" and will not stand for anything else in this point in time.

Daichi snorts at the use of the word "film," telling Kuroo it makes him sound like a pretentious asshat, and is smacked across the face with a pillow. Oikawa chimes in, claiming that Kuroo was already an asshat, and ends up with a faceful of pillow as well. Bokuto claps Kuroo on the shoulder in support.

"God, Bokuto, do you have to take up a third of the couch right now?" Daichi grunts, worming his way between Kuroo and Oikawa. He ends up jabbing Kuroo in the cheek with his elbow, who squawks and pushes him onto Oikawa's lap.

"I am so not taking up a third of the couch, you jerk! It's a small couch and you and Kuroo aren't exactly petite, you know!" In the name of good sportsmanship, Bokuto attempts to squeeze closer to the edge of the couch.

Akaashi watches this continue for a minute, stepping aside every now and then to dodge a flailing limb, and finally elects to sit on the floor in front of Bokuto's spot on the couch.

"Come join us, Akaashi! You don't have to sit on the floor," Oikawa whines, mercilessly shoving Daichi's knee away from himself.

A pair of eyebrows raise. "I think I'm alright, thanks."

"Nah, don't be like that," Kuroo crows, and leans over to grab Akaashi's arm. He does his best to haul him onto the couch (which is a flawed plan from the start, given that there's already about zero available surface area), but with the angle that he's at it proves immensely difficult. He gives up after a moment of pathetic tugging and falls back. "You can't watch a horror movie on the floor!"

A thought strikes Bokuto, and he grabs Akaashi's shoulder. "Yeah! What if I get scared and jump and my knee hits your head and you have to go to the hospital because I gave you a concussion?"

"Bokuto's a jumper," Kuroo agrees.

Akaashi ponders this for a moment. Whether it's because he wants to avoid a concussion or another ten minutes of being pulled from the floor, he finally gets to his feet and tries to squish between Kuroo and Bokuto.

It's good that he's slender, because if he was built like Daichi or Kuroo - all powerful thighs and broad shoulders - it would surely have been an unsuccessful endeavor. He's smaller though, and therefore more capable of sidling between the two larger figures.

However, it's still a rather small couch, and there are already four men crammed onto it, so he is not entirely successful either.

Akaashi ends up half on the couch and half on Bokuto's lap, the latter of which who is very pointedly not looking down because _he promised himself not to be a creep about his roommate_. Not that he's usually a creep, but Akaashi is very pretty and thus requires an extra-special effort. He eventually adjusts to the added weight, and steels himself with the thought that Akaashi is a Straight Guy and by association totally not a threat to his self control.

Yeah, he's got this whole "hot roommate" thing in the bag. They're buddies, and buddies don't pop a boner when they end up half on each other's lap.

Bokuto is actually so focused on keeping his (admittedly hormonal) brain under control that the movie is actually cued up by the time he snaps back into focus.

"Who's ready to yell and weep?" Kuroo shouts, and Bokuto whoops.

"I still think we should have watched an alien movie," Oikawa grumbles. Kuroo makes an alien fetish joke and is sent a glare that could probably freeze hell over.

Akaashi turns to Bokuto. "I'm not crushing you, right?" He says, and his mouth is way too close to Bokuto's ear for comfort.

Bokuto shakes his head with what may be a little too much vigor. "All good! You're about half of Daichi's size, and he had to sit on my lap when we tried to get six people on this bad boy one time." He pats the arm of the couch affectionately.

The raven seems satisfied at this answer, and his eyes return to the screen as Kuroo presses play. Bokuto does his best to focus on the television and some dead deer laying on asphalt, though he can't help but find himself momentarily distracted by the faint scent of lemon coming from his right.

As it turns out, Kuroo is very much correct. For a movie with such a cute little girl, it sure as hell is one terrifying piece of work. Bokuto does his best to keep his jumping to a minimum; he doesn't exactly want to send Akaashi sailing right onto the floor. 

Approximately an hour into the movie, there's a particularly tense moment and at its peak, the room erupts into shrieks. Bokuto definitely jumps this time, and in the aftermath of being jostled from both sides (Kuroo has also nearly ejected himself from the couch), Akaashi's weight shifts further onto his lap. Bokuto curses his hyperactive tendencies and occupies the following moment by watching Kuroo and Oikawa unlatch themselves from Daichi, who has seemingly become a pillar of safety.

Unfortunately, he can only divert his attention from the problem that is (literally) sitting in his lap for so long. If the movie was a little tricky to focus on at first, it's now Bokuto's greatest test of inner strength. Akaashi flinches as a scream rips through the train and _oh god his ass is kind of pressing against Bokuto's crotch and he's not a pervert he's not a pervert he's not a-_

"Doin' alright there, Bo?" Kuroo jeers, and Bokuto swears he's going to end someone's life in the next seven seconds. "You look like you've been through hell and back."

Bokuto refuses to tear his lazer vision from the screen where he is now attempting to catch the corpse's onscreen breathing. "Shut up, hypocrite," he retorts. "I don't even have to see you to know you're clinging to Daichi right now." 

Oikawa barks out a laugh, which affirms Bokuto's guess (even though he is most definitely clinging to Daichi as well). Kuroo mutters something about Bokuto finally using multisyllabic words but is otherwise quiet once again, just in time for another scream to rattle the train car. 

The movie ends with a room full of crying adult men, all of whom are trying desperately to conceal their expressions (it does not work in the slightest). Bokuto isn't completely sure that Akaashi is as emotional as he is, but he likes to believe that his roommate has a soul and so in his mind's eye, the raven is also trying to blink away tears.

"Well," Oikawa sniffles, "good movie choice."

"Thanks," Kuroo says, shoving his face into his shoulder. 

Bokuto attempts to cover up the shakiness of his breath with a cough. It catches in his throat, though, so it really comes out as a rough hacking sound that has Akaashi turning around in a mix of concern and confusion. He isn't crying, and thus Bokuto decides that he is living with not only a straight man, but probably a sociopath as well. A double curse.

"Are you alright, Bokuto-san?" Akaashi tilts his head, eyebrows knit. "You're crying."

At this point, pretending he's stoic is just absolutely not going to work. Akaashi was bound to find out that he's a total baby eventually.

"It was so depressing, Akaashi!" He wails, covering his face with both hands. The other three make noises of sympathy. They're all a bunch of losers, really.

A hand pats at his shoulder. Bokuto peeks a watery eye out from between his index and ring fingers. 

"It was pretty sad," Akaashi agrees, though there is still no indication that he intends to cry. He offers Bokuto a glass of water which is gladly accepted. Oikawa and Kuroo make sure to sniffle extra pathetically so the offer is extended to them as well. 

They each down their glass in record time. Daichi is offered a glass and opts to sip from it; he was the least teary (Akaashi aside), which was expected because Daichi is the ideal human being and therefore cries just the right amount to still sustain a semblance of dignity. Bokuto and Kuroo quickly revive themselves with a bet on who can finish their glass first, and Bokuto wins. 

After copious amounts of whining from Oikawa that it's "so late and his feet hurt so bad and he can just sleep here on the couch, he promises," the three yawn their goodbyes and tug themselves from the dorm. 

Bokuto gathers the drained glasses from their spots on the kitchen sink and washes them one by one, patting himself on the back for this show of diligence. Beer bottles clink their farewells as Akaashi tosses them into the garbage, murmuring to Bokuto that he'll take it out tomorrow morning. 

Everything is sleepy and calm; summer air seeps from under the front door and keeps the room warm, and suddenly Bokuto is overwhelmed by a sense of contentedness. He doesn't stop to think about where it emanates from, instead simply choosing to savor it as he squeezes soap out of the sponge and watches it run in rivulets down his forearm. 

The remainder of the night flits by as the two take turns in the bathroom, pressing toothpaste from crumpled tubes and pulling on old t-shirts. Bokuto is about to drift off to sleep when his phone lights up with a text. 

(12:23) Oikawa: _told you so_

\-----

The morning light greets him a lot sooner than he would have liked it to. Bokuto groans and wrenches his pillow out from under his head, slamming it over his eyes in an unceremonious attempt to black out his vision once again and hopefully catch another hour of sleep.

"Tired?" Akaashi's voice floats over from the kitchen, where Bokuto can hear the trickle of running water. 

Bokuto sits up and grabs at the water bottle he has beside his bed. "You have no idea, dude," he gurgles. 

It's nine o'clock, according to his phone. He has basically the entire day to do anything he wants. Well, the entire day until five o'clock when his shift starts, but that's still eight hours. He'll probably bug Kuroo or something until then, maybe go for a run. 

Akaashi returns from the kitchen, a bowl of berries in hand. He passes it to Bokuto, smiling a little at the look of confusion he receives. "Eat. I think the last thing you had was beer." 

"Wow, thanks Akaashi!" Bokuto grins and plucks a raspberry from the top. It sits on the tip of his finger before he sucks it into his mouth, vacuum-style. It shoots too far in and hits the back of his throat, leaving him to cough. Akaashi moves as if to help and he waves him off, laughing through hacking noises. "I'm fine, just old habits dying hard."

"You never cease to impress, Bokuto-san."

"That was sarcasm, I know it was."

Akaashi nods. "It was sarcasm. Glad you caught on."

Bokuto tells him that he's just as mean as Oikawa is and Akaashi agrees after a moment's contemplation. Bokuto sighs dramatically and Akaashi pats him on the shoulder. 

He finishes off the berries, doing his best to lick up all the remaining juices to no avail. His hands are now a sticky mess, and he gets up to wash his hands at the kitchen sink. He doesn't even wipe his hands on stray towels anymore; Akaashi's influence has succeeded in turning him into an almost-clean roommate. 

"Yo, 'kaashi!" he calls. "Any big plans for today?"

A murmured "no" comes from Akaashi's direction and Bokuto pauses to think for a moment. 

"Hey, why don't you come with me to Kuroo's place in a little while? I don't think he's got much going on and you'll meet his roommate. He's quiet, sorta like you!"

Akaashi hums. "Won't I be intruding?"

Bokuto, satisfied with the state of his hands, turns around and leans against the counter. "You really think Kuroo - the guy who spent half of last night clinging to Daichi and shrieking - cares about formalities?"

This seems to be a solid enough point for Akaashi to be satisfied. Bokuto calls Kuroo to tell him that they'll be over in an hour, ignoring his protests that Bokuto ate all the chips last time he came over, and hangs up. 

\-----

"My favorite hobby is arguing that Sailor Moon could beat Goku in a fight," Bokuto says as Kuroo's dorm building comes into view. "He gets so annoyed about it. One time I made a presentation with slides and he almost tackled me by the seventh."

Akaashi scratches at his head, sending his raven waves to flutter in the slight breeze. "Well, what did you say in your presentation to back up your claim?"

"I started off by saying she has a cooler outfit and it all sort of went downhill from there," Bokuto admits. "She does have a sick-ass getup, though."

"That she does," Akaashi agrees. "Isn't she like, fourteen, though?"

Bokuto shrugs. "It's all about making Kuroo mad about the fact that it's even a debate. He's such a sucker for my bait. Also, Sailor Moon is strong as hell. I think she could pull it off."

Akaashi is quiet for a moment. He tilts his head, and Bokuto is pretty sure that if he listened closely enough he'd hear the gears whirring inside. "What about Naruto? Where would he place on the Able To Take On Sailor Moon scale?"

Bokuto grins. "Ask Kuroo that when we walk inside. I'll get his reaction on recording and we'll make millions from it online. We had a debate about that one time and it lasted two full hours."

The raven scoffs as they reach the dorm's. Bokuto puts a finger to his lips, wiggling his eyebrows in a "watch this," before stalking up to the front door. He inhales deeply and lets the air rush out of his lungs before pounding on the door with his fist.

"SAILOR MOON COULD WIPE THE FLOOR WITH GO-"

The door flies open so hard that Bokuto wonders if it'll finally come off of its hinges.

"SHE ABSOLUTELY COULD NOT!" Kuroo roars.

"Oh, hey Kuroo!" Bokuto chirps. He offers up a broad smile and snickers internally at the rage plastered across Kuroo's face. "Akaashi, go ahead and ask him your question from earlier."

"I absolutely will not be doing that," Akaashi deadpans, observing the vein that is popping out above Kuroo's left eyebrow.

Bokuto slides past Kuroo into the dorm, whispering about how Sailor Moon could turn Goku into a smudge on the floor as he passes. Akaashi has the good grace to duck his head as he follows.

A small form is pulled into itself on the corner of the sofa inside. It's wrapped in a red jacket - _even though it's like eighty degrees out_ , Bokuto thinks, and sighs - legs tucked together and head bowed in concentration. Little blips and clicks stream steadily from the handheld game residing in the slender hands; he's probably in the middle of some digital battle as per usual. 

"Kenma!" Bokuto cries. "How're you doin', my main man?"

A pathetic-sounding _pewewew_ sounds from the screen and Kenma looks up. His eyes, that striking golden shade, meet Bokuto's. They're sharp, bordering on unnerving; it always feels as though his gaze pricks through one layer deeper than Bokuto wants it to. 

His shoulders slump further. "I was about to beat that level," he mutters, though his tone betrays no real anger. It isn't the first time Bokuto has interfered mid-battle, and it surely won't be the last. 

"But you'll get him next time!" Bokuto waves him off easily. "You always do!"

"Sure," Kenma sighs, and turns his eyes to Akaashi, standing slightly to Bokuto's left. His voice is soft, pretty, almost delicate. It's a wonder he lives with someone as wild as Kuroo. "I don't think we've met."

The raven shakes his head. "Akaashi. I'm rooming with Bokuto-san." 

They exchange the usual pleasantries for a moment before Bokuto heads over to bother Kuroo a little more. They end up on his bed, Bokuto trying his best to shove his sock-covered feet in Kuroo's face and Kuroo trying his best to grab his leg and throw him to the floor. It's a sweaty, chaotic endeavor, and it results in the both of them wrapped in sheets and panting. 

Bokuto hears Akaashi ask if they're always like this or only on weekends. Kenma says something inaudible, and though he can't hear it, he's sure it's an affirmation, so he squawks indignantly for good measure. 

When Kuroo's bed is in order (as in, he could plausibly sleep on it - it hasn't been neat for weeks, Bokuto guesses), they flop down on it again, too drained from the heat of the air and their previous tussle to squabble much more. They lay there for a moment, neither speaking. Bokuto is about to remark on how unusual it is for Kuroo to stay quiet for over twelve seconds at a time when he looks over and sees the expression on his face.

Bokuto is pretty good at reading people. Sure, he might not be great with long words and he's absolute shit at math, but people come easy. He notes the trail that Kuroo's eyes follow, examining how they linger on the pudding-head's small form for a moment too long here and there. His lips are scrunched together and his brows are knit, face tight like it would be when he was focusing particularly hard in a match. 

"Are you ever going to tell him?" 

"Huh?" Kuroo jolts, much like one does when yanked out of the grasp of sleep after finding oneself plummeting through the clouds. He blinks. 

Bokuto rests his chin on his palm, watching as Akaashi and Kenma huddle together, the raven pointing at something on the screen clutched between Kenma's hands. "Are you ever going to tell Kenma that you like him?"

Kuroo's head snaps in his direction. His voice is little more than a whisper-scream. "Tell Kenma that I _what_?"

"Oh, come on. Don't tell me you're that stupid," Bokuto says. He looks at Kuroo's expression for a moment longer. He vaguely resembles a deer struck on the head with a metal bat. "Never mind. You're that stupid."

"I-I'm-" Kuroo splutters. "I don't - he's my friend!" 

Bokuto's eyes roll back so far in his head that he should probably be viewing his brain matter by now. "Ever thought about him when you've jerked it?"

If he was a worse person, he would have snapped a picture of the look on Kuroo's face. It's somewhere between scandalized and utterly, completely caught. 

"Knew it," Bokuto crows. "And would you think about me while jerking it?"

"I would rather gut myself, thanks," Kuroo bites, finally having regained his voice. "That's like, so wrong on so many levels."

"There you have it. It's not wrong to feature your childhood best friend in your spank bank but it is to do that to your other friends? Sounds a little fishy to me."

Kuroo's eyes ping-pong between the form laying next to him and the one perched on the couch across the room. "Would you keep it down, please?" He hisses. 

"Look at me. Captain Emotional Intelligence works his magic once again." Bokuto rolls over onto his back, tucking his hands behind his head. "Feel free to fall to your knees and worship the ground I walk on."

Kuroo scoffs. "Says the guy who assumed his roommate is straight. Who, by the way, most definitely is not."

It's Bokuto's turn to struggle to get his tongue to form words. "Wh-What the hell? According to who, genius?"

"First of all, it's 'whom-'"

"Whatever!"

"-And according to Oikawa, FYI. The guy is literally never wrong. Also, what straight guy sits on another guy's lap for a whole movie? And don't say me, because you and I are bros for life and have surpassed the standard of regular bro ethics."

Bokuto gapes. He probably looks like a tuna fish. Or maybe an ugly cod. "He's just - he's straight! He's pencil-stick-straight! I just know he is!"

Kuroo tells him to keep it down lest the not-straight-roommate across the room hears and gets a pillow mashed in his face. Maybe if Bokuto holds it over his head long enough he'll suffocate and the discussion will be over. 

To Bokuto's chagrin, Kuroo manages to thrash around enough for the pillow to fly to the floor. He gasps dramatically as if he's been deprived of air for thirty years rather than thirty seconds. Kenma and Akaashi glance in their direction wordlessly before their eyes return to the game. 

"Not straight," Kuroo croaks.

Bokuto lunges for the pillow on the floor to suffocate him for good this time. 

\-----

Taking one last look in the mirror to make sure he looks presentable enough (which is an utter joke, because he'll be half-running the whole way to the cafe and will in the process decimate his attempt at looking organized), Bokuto waves a farewell to Akaashi and dashes out the door. 

He arrives at work a minute before the time he has to clock in, and he stands outside the cafe for a minute, panting and red-faced. He then realizes that in his current position, facing the door with his hands on his knees, his ass is pretty much stuck out at the rest of the street. 

_Fuck it_ , he thinks, straightening up and brushing himself off, _my ass is great. It's their treat_.

Konoha is manning the register and Hinata is in his regular spot at the drink-making station. He has had little time at the register since he nearly mauled Kageyama, and though Suga vehemently denies that it's on purpose, everyone knows that it's a little less chaotic whenever Kageyama comes around.

(Truthfully, Bokuto has absolutely no idea what their dynamic is. He'd assume sworn nemeses, but he's spotted them walking together multiple times - though more often than not he hears them before they actually come into view.)

"Bokuto!" Hinata has spotted him and is waving wildly, a cup in his other hand. Bokuto greets him in a similar fashion, voice booming over the soft music that twirls through the cinnamon-scented air. 

He slips between tables and chairs to the back and dons his apron. He salutes Konoha as he steps into the area behind the counter and is met with an appreciative eye roll. 

The evening crowd will start to trickle in soon, so Bokuto and Hinata are temporarily sent out into the sea of tables to wipe down all dirty surfaces and sweep away the crumbs that line the tiles of the floor. They decide that the best way to go about this is to battle it out to see who can capture the most discarded straws and napkins. 

There are roughly four in total on the entire floor, so it is a short battle.

Hinata wins.

"It's no fair," Bokuto moans. Hinata is cheering in front of the trash can by the counter. "You're so damn fast."

Hinata sticks out his tongue. "Not my fault you're old. They sell arthritis medicine, you know!"

"Oi-" Bokuto begins, cut off by the chiming of the bell hanging by the door. 

He moves to tug Hinata behind the counter with him, but suddenly the redhead is jabbing his broom in the direction of the bell. Bokuto barely avoids being whacked in the shoulder. 

"Why are you here?" Hinata practically screeches. 

An exasperated groan tells Bokuto all he needs to know about who just walked in.

Kageyama pinches the bridge of his nose. "To get coffee. There is literally no other reason for me to be here, stupid."

"I'll show you stu-ack!" 

Bokuto grabs Hinata by the collar and begins to drag him behind the counter. Konoha's eyebrows are nearly at his hairline - it's evident he has yet to witness the cyclone that is Kageyama and Hinata's whatever-it-is. 

"I cannot believe I'm the one saying this," Bokuto says, "but you're being way too disruptive in the workplace, tiger."

Hinata growls as Kageyama approaches the register. 

"Can I spit in his drink?" His eyes turn to Bokuto, wide and shining with excitement.

"Do you want Suga to shove that broomstick up your ass?"

"No."

"Then I wouldn't suggest spitting in Kageyama's drink."

Hinata makes a sad mewling sound. It would be a little cuter if out of context. Nevertheless, his large brown eyes never falter as they watch Kageyama shift from the register to a table nearby. He watches intently, quietly, and Bokuto is once again left completely in the dark. 

In true Bokuto fashion, he decides to slam his hand on the light switch. 

"So what's your deal with tall, dark, and grumpy over there?" He elbows Hinata, whose mouth flattens into a straight line. 

"I wish I could tell you," the redhead grumbles after a moment. "His face pisses me off but I see him everywhere so we always end up talking. Whenever he opens his stupid mouth to insult me I wanna kick him."

Bokuto thinks for a moment. "Well, have you tried not antagonizing him as soon as you see him?"

"I don't antagonize him!" Hinata protests. 

Bokuto assures him that he most definitely does, causing the shorter boy to huff and stick out his bottom lip in a pout. He's about to say something else when the door chimes and Konoha is telling them to hurry up and do their jobs. 

At some point in the following hour or so, Yamaguchi pops in, holding a small cluster of papers. He explains to Bokuto that he's applying to work there and it takes everything in his six-foot-one body to not rush over and scoop him up in a hug. Yamaguchi flushes at the flood of praise that greets him and is saved by a rather curious Hinata. As it turns out, they have a small overlap in classes and already know each other fairly well. 

Yamaguchi finally excuses himself as others file into the cafe, not wanting to hold up the line, and sees himself out with one final wave. Bokuto's heart radiates with pride at the notion that the nervous freshman had taken his first step into the world of college life. 

He should really be a therapist with all this helping out he's been doing lately. Bokuto comes to this conclusion as he tops a blended drink off with whipped cream, careful not to spray any on his uniform or the surrounding counter space. First Kuroo, then Hinata (not to mention the fact that he sort of lined things up for Yamaguchi to work at the cafe); he's totally on a roll. He can almost see it now: the well-decorated office space, walls lined with books-

A familiar voice barely registers over the hum of acoustic guitar that plays from the speaker by Bokuto's head. He turns excitedly, face breaking into his trademark smile. 

"Akaashi!" He cries.

Akaashi smiles at him in return from the space between Konoha's head and the counter. "Hello, Bokuto-san. It isn't weird that I ended up at your work, right?"

"No way! It's a pretty baller coffee shop with some even more baller baristas. I'd take it personally if you never showed up!" Bokuto has all but forgotten about the drink in his hand until Hinata snatches in away and places it on the counter, calling out the name of a person who's probably been waiting for too long. 

A head of red hair pops up beside him as Akaashi takes his drink to an open seat, pulling out his laptop from the messenger bag slung over his shoulder. 

"Hold on, he's your roommate, right?" Hinata cocks his head. "He's pretty."

"Yeah," Bokuto agrees, leaning on the counter behind him. "Really pretty. And really straight, probably."

The redhead eyes him for a moment, but chooses not to say anything. Bokuto's glad; if one more person tells him he's wrong, he might even start to believe it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> no i'm not in a state of complete emotional devastation because the haikyuu manga is officially done why do you ask


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which everything gets painfully awkward and then gets less awkward again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello! just as a warning, this chapter does include some sexual themes. if you are uncomfortable with that, then I suggest skipping until you see the first set of five dashes :)

Bokuto is outside of his front door when it happens. 

He's coming back from a closing shift at the cafe, the night air warm and occasionally interrupted by the occasional breeze. His hands are stuffed in his pockets and his earbuds are slotted in his ears, playing American rap music that he only half-understands but loves anyways. So what if he misses every fourth word or so? He gets the gist of it.

A rock goes sailing as he kicks it down the sidewalk. It bounces into the grass and he scours the surrounding pavement, hoping to find another. This cycle continues as he makes his way to his dorm building, dribbling the rock in and out of patches of light from lamps overhead. He abandons his final rock by the stairs outside of his building, scampering up them two at a time.

He's in a good mood, really. His shift went smoothly, by his standards; he'd managed to send Hinata to the back before Kageyama walked in, and Suga even complimented his latte art. He'd been getting better at it lately, even practicing a little bit at home, and the acknowledgement made his whole body glow.

So, as he approaches the front door, he's already pulled his earbuds from his ears, ready to take a much-needed shower and work on his paper a bit before melting into the couch. He's maybe two feet away when he hears the first noise.

It's very quiet, really. It would have been nearly impossible to hear during the daytime, when there's the constant chatter of passerby in the world below and the birds sing their morning praises. But right now, the air is still, and Bokuto is able to hear a faint whimper through the front door. 

His mind immediately flies to Akaashi. Is he hurt? Did he slip on something Bokuto had flung to the floor? Shit, maybe he was in with the Yakuza and had gotten in trouble and now they're going to beat the life out of him and where the _hell_ are his keys? 

A second noise, barely louder than the first, seeps from under the door, and Bokuto is literally ransacking his bag to find those stupid keys of his. He has to be quiet, in case Akaashi actually is being ganged up on, so he can have the element of surprise. Maybe he's going to have to kick the door in. He's seen enough crime procedural shows to have a rough idea of what that entails.

Then, a noise that is definitely not one of pain. 

Bokuto freezes. He feels his face heat up and his hand retracts from his bag. That was most definitely not the sound of someone who's about to be killed by the Japanese mafia. It was more like a-

A gasp, barely audible and muffled by the front door, slips its way into Bokuto's ears and he's probably a lovely shade of firetruck red. His hand inches toward the doorknob before he pulls it away like one would do with a hot iron. 

He hears one more wavering moan and he is practically scrambling away from the door and down the stairs. When he gets to the bottom he nearly collapses on his ass because if Akaashi wasn't a sexual figure in his mind, he sure as hell is now. How is he supposed to walk in later and make eye contact with someone whose moans he just heard through his front door?

Bokuto's ears burn at the memory of the sounds he's just heard. He had just stood there and listened to Akaashi's panting and whining like a total creep. And worst of all? It was, by all means, _majorly_ hot. 

If he doesn't distract himself extremely soon he is going to end up with a hard-on on the steps of his dorm building. This is the one thing that prompts him to stand up and set off down the sidewalk; he isn't going to anywhere particular, simply anywhere but his dorm. 

Seriously, though. Would it have killed Akaashi to send him a heads-up in advance? Sure, Bokuto understood the need to release a little pent-up stress with someone every once in a while, but isn't it the first rule of roommate etiquette to let your roommate know when you're bringing someone else home?

Also, those were not super macho noises that Akaashi was making. Bokuto stops in his tracks as he considers the possibilities. Maybe he's into some femdom play or something like that, which is totally not Bokuto's speed, but it's not like he can really judge. If he finds a whip or something lying around, though, he's going to launch himself from a bridge. 

After maybe forty five minutes of walking, he finds himself back at the building. His rap music is back in his ears in a feeble attempt to drown out the remnants of what he heard earlier. He pauses at the base of the stairs, puffing out his chest as a reminder that he's not a coward and he will deal with this small setback in the way that non-cowards do. 

It's as if he teleports to the front door; his hand is on that iron skillet of a knob before he's even aware that he's up the stairs. A final breath steels him and he pushes the key into the lock, turning the knob and stepping into the dorm. 

"Hello, Bokuto-san." Akaashi is sitting on his bed, a ginormous book in his lap. 

Bokuto can't help it. He's no coward, but he is a normal human being. He jumps. 

"He-Hey, Akaashi!" He forces a grin onto his face and prays that it doesn't look as pained as it really is. "How're you doing?"

Akaashi hums. "Pretty well. My day wasn't all that terrible. And yourself?"

God, every nerve in his body is screaming at him to address the thing that's been pestering him for the better part of an hour. There is, unfortunately, no disconnect between his mind and his mouth, and in situations of high stress, he has the tendency to word-vomit. 

"Uh, pretty good." Bokuto rubs at his neck, contemplating whether or not to spit it out (as if he has a choice in the matter - it's inevitable). 

"So, ah, I'm not really sure how to say this, but...." Well, he's started in on the sentence. Might as well dig his grave while he already has the shovel in hand. Akaashi's head is cocked in interest. "When you have someone over - I mean, when you're, uh - shit."

"Sorry, what?" The raven's eyebrows furrow. His gaze is no longer on the book, but is instead boring its way through Bokuto's skull.

Bokuto grits his teeth, dropping his eyes to his feet where they trace the lines of his laces. "What I mean to say is: if you want to have a girl over, that's totally cool, but could you, ah, maybe let me know in advance? I can take the long way from work to avoid walking in on you guys. I came home after work and heard a couple things so I left and oh god, I'll stop now."

One phrase: word vomit. 

His eyes flick back up to Akaashi, who now looks as mortified as Bokuto feels. His blue-green eyes are wide and his mouth is pressed into a thin, wavering line. It's a rather dramatic change from his usual cool-as-ice demeanor, and had the circumstances been very different Bokuto would probably snicker at the sight.

However, he's also equally embarrassed, so it's not as if he has any right to laugh. 

Akaashi's mouth opens, closes, and opens again. He's obviously picking the best possible string of words to avoid any additional awkwardness, and Bokuto is entirely appreciative of his grace (whereas he himself is lacking in that particular department). 

"I, uh, didn't have anyone over," the raven begins, cheeks flushed pink. "I thought you'd be back later. I'm sorry you had to hear that."

Well if he didn't have anyone over then what the hell was he-

Oh. 

_Oh._

The implication hits him like a freight train hits an unsuspecting squirrel. His blush returns tenfold and he has to swipe a hand over his mouth to prevent himself from saying anything that could make this situation any worse. 

Akaashi was having alone time. And he sounded like - like that. God, his quest to refrain from being a creep about his roommate is completely doomed to fail because he is a healthy young bisexual man, damn it, and now he knows what his (very) pretty roommate sounds like when he gets off and holy shit does the universe hate him or what?

Bokuto forces out the driest laugh in existence and raises a hand to wave him off. His chest feels like it's made of sandpaper. "No biggie," he says. "Just let me know if you need a little, uh, time alone."

"I - yeah, will do." Akaashi seems to be actively trying to sink into his mattress. Bokuto is tempted to help him, if only so this conversation will reach its much-needed end. 

There's a very long pause, neither party sure of what to say to move on from the topic at hand. It's made infinitely worse by the way their eyes keep meeting, only for the both of them to shoot their gazes elsewhere - sometimes the floor, other times the ceiling. Finally, after an eternity, Bokuto decides to bite the bullet and speak up. 

"I think I'm gonna take a shower. Unless you need the bathroom at all?"

"No, no, all yours," Akaashi hurriedly assures him. "Go right ahead."

He picks up his textbook and practically shoves his face in between the open pages. Bokuto nods to himself and scurries to grab a fresh change of clothes before speedwalking to the bathroom and shutting the door behind him with a sigh of relief.

His hands work clumsily to peel off his clothing, which seems to stick to his skin and prickle at the joints. He turns the shower on, waiting for a moment for it to warm up enough, testing it with his palm a few times. He steps in, feeling the warmth flow in rivulets down his back and chest. His hair loses its spikiness and instead plasters against his forehead. He pushes it out of the way and squeezes shampoo into his hand. 

It's quiet now; there are no sounds in their dorm aside from the trickle of running water hitting the floor of the shower. And in this silence, Bokuto's mind conjures up the last thing he needs: Akaashi's tiny sounds from earlier. It's been too long since he's had any time to relieve himself lately and in retribution his body has decided that now is the time.

He swears under his breath and rubs the shampoo into his scalp fervently, blunt nails digging at the roots of his hair. He is not going to do something like that to Akaashi - he won't dirty him in that way.

 _But he was already dirty,_ leers something ugly from the corner of his mind, and he curses again. 

He rinses the soap from his hair and sighs, slumping against the shower wall. His skin steams with heat from the water. A different sort of heat begins to coil low in his stomach and he winces, fully aware of the path he's being forced down. 

Bokuto utters a wordless apology to Akaashi before wrapping a hand around himself, hoping that the water will wash away his guilt. 

\-----

"Ah jeez," Oikawa gasps between peals of laughter. "That's something straight out of a shitty book."

Bokuto wails from where his head is hidden behind his hands. "It's so not funny! That was so wrong! Like, so, so wrong!"

They're sitting outside a cafe not far from the library. Oikawa sips on an iced matcha drink while Bokuto tears a corner off his second croissant of the hour and shoves it into his mouth. He's already been subjected to multiple stress eating jokes and can't even try to protest them. 

Oikawa, the jerk, makes no attempt to deny this. Instead, he wiggles his perfectly trimmed eyebrows at Bokuto and asks: "Is that proof enough that he isn't straight?"

"That's what you're concerned about?" Bokuto splutters. "Not the fact that I literally jacked it to the memory of my roommate getting off?"

The brunette smirks. "Oh, Kou-chan. We all know you have a weak spot for pretty boys. And Akaashi is very pretty indeed."

"That is entirely beside the point! We barely know each other!" Bokuto screeches. A boy riding a blue bicycle looks over as he glides by. 

Oikawa takes a long sip of his drink. There's condensation along the side, little dropelts of water which trace their way down the plastic and onto the table. "Well, just don't tell him about it and you can pretend it didn't happen. But for the record, I totally told you so. He's so not straight."

"You and your need to always be right." Bokuto's fingers grab at another piece of croissant, only to find that there's none left. He briefly contemplates getting a third, before remembering that his paycheck comes in another week. "I dunno, what if we're misreading everything?"

"I'm never wrong about these things, Kou-chan." Oikawa's lips pull into a mischevious grin. "I wonder what he's like in bed? Maybe he's into spanking or something of the like. You could do well with that, what with all your spiking experience!"

Bokuto inhales sharply. He does this so quickly that he actually begins to cough - it seems that there was a tiny bit of croissant that managed to lodge itself in his throat. His face is bright red when he finishes coughing, though he's not sure whether it's from the assault on his windpipe or sheer embarrassment. 

"I'm doomed," he groans, ducking his head, and Oikawa chuckles. 

"It'll all work out fine." A hand pats at his shoulder. He looks up to see Oikawa leaning over the table, arm outstretched. "I really wouldn't worry too much if I were you."

Though Bokuto really isn't sure how much he trusts Oikawa's sense of judgement in these situations, he nods. "I'll hold you to that. So how are things with Iwaizumi?"

A desolate whine from across the table tells him everything he needs to know.

\-----

It's a few days later and Bokuto is working on melding with the couch, eyes glued to the screen of the television as the narrator of the National Geographic special on monkeys explains their migratory habits. He doesn't remember the exact name of the monkey species, but they are rather small and extremely cute. 

A particularly small one bounces across the screen and flings itself at its slightly larger companion, who in turn screeches and attempts to pry it off. It seems that for all the small one lacks in size, it makes up for in vigor. Bokuto is struck by the thought that it vaguely reminds him of someone he knows, though he can't quite place who. 

The door clicks from a bit to his right and he turns to see Akaashi, hair slightly ruffled by the wind, stepping into their dorm. Bokuto greets him as he usually does - an excited yell of his name - and grins. Akaashi waves and murmurs his hello. 

Akaashi sets his books down with a heavy sigh. _He looks tired,_ Bokuto notices. Dark circles decorate the skin under his eyes and his face is drawn, posture slumped over. It's as if he's been somehow spread too thin, like strawberry jam over too many slices of bread. Bokuto's mood sours a little at the picture of exhaustion in front of him. 

"You should rest, Akaashi," he says, grabbing the remote to pause the special. "Come watch this with me for a bit."

Akaashi's voice is low, as if even speaking is sapping his strength. "I can't. I've got a paper due in a few days, plus it's my turn to run for groceries and-"

He cuts himself off, running a palm across his face. When it comes away, Bokuto can read the exhaustion that runs across his lips and forehead. His heart tugs in his chest - he isn't sure why, but it does - and his hands cement into fists. 

"No," he says firmly, and Akaashi's eyebrows arch up. It's the first time he's used anything like a stern tone in the months they've lived together. "You're going to watch this with me. And then I'm going to get groceries and I'll make dinner while you work on your paper."

Akaashi's mouth opens, as if to protest, and Bokuto shakes his head.

"No arguing. Now sit your ass over here."

He fixes Akaashi with the most Daichi-like look he can conjure up, drawing his eyebrows together and turning his chin downwards, and while Akaashi looks far from intimidated Bokuto manages to elicit a small laugh from him. 

A moment later, Akaashi is beside him on the couch, pressing up against a pillow, and Bokuto allows himself a private smile before pressing play. 

As the minutes tick by, Akaashi begins to pluck himself from his tensed posture and curls into the pillow beside him. His breaths run deeper, more languid, and Bokuto catches him exhaling a small laugh through his nose once or twice. 

By the end of it, his eyes are glazing over and he's draped across the pillow like an ancient Greek woman in an old painting. The blues of the television screen bounce off of his dark locks and set his face aglow in the fading evening light, and he looks so delicate that Bokuto is sure he'll melt if touched. Bokuto wishes for a moment that he was a painter, because if he could capture this moment it would surely rival anything hanging in the Louvre right now. 

The credits begin to flicker across the screen and Akaashi stretches as he pulls himself upright. He looks over at Bokuto, smiling softly. 

"That was really nice, Bokuto-san," he yawns. "Thank you."

Bokuto beams. Akaashi looks better, if even a little - the pressure has slipped off his shoulders a little and his features are less tightly stretched across his pale skin. "Of course! Anytime, Akaashi! Let me know if you ever need me to handle stuff around here for a bit - you've got so much on your plate and I wanna help!"

After being assured (multiple times) by Akaashi that he will be notified if help is ever needed, Bokuto slips out the door, tasked with the acquiring of food. Akaashi had scrawled out a small list for him on a spare scrap of paper torn from the back of a spare notebook.

As he walks, Bokuto admires his roommate's handwriting. It's uniform and easy on the eye - nothing is out of place. He even writes in straight lines on blank paper, which is way harder than it sounds; Bokuto's handwriting always curves up or down before he realizes it, skewing this way and that across the page. It's very in-line with the rest of Akaashi, calm and concentrated and never thrown from his groove.

He spots the glow of the grocery store's sign not far off from where he walks, and his pace picks up a fraction. It's really not a large store at all, just a small building tucked among the street lamps and parked cars of the suburban landscape. It always seems to have exactly what Bokuto needs, though, so the size of the store is never an issue. 

Bokuto slips between the doors as they slide open. He waves a hand to the owner sitting by the register, a man he's come to know as Ukai, with dyed blond hair always pulled away from his face with a headband. He's probably in his early thirties, by Bokuto's estimate, and it isn't uncommon for a cigarette to find its way between his eagerly awaiting fingers.

Nonetheless, he's funny and honest, and he's never one to turn down Bokuto's offer of a joke. Ukai calls a greeting to Bokuto as he enters, and Bokuto replies in kind, shooting him an easy finger-gun for good measure. 

He hums while shopping, doing his best to match the velvety tones of the singer on the speker system. It's an old song - from the eighties, he thinks - and one he knows well. His steps begin to match the beat every now and then and he grins, bobbing his head to the time of the music. Nobody's in the little store right now, so it isn't as if anyone will come across his halfhearted dance number. 

Bokuto taps his way through the aisles, adding the occasional item to his basket, until he looks down and realizes he has everything they'll need for the next few days. At the register, he tells Ukai a joke he'd heard from Kuroo the other day (it involves a hurricane and a coconut tree), and the man groans upon hearing the punchline, though his eyes glint with laughter.

"That was an awful joke, you know that?" Ukai asks, scanning a jar. 

Bokuto shrugs. "Yeah. But it made me laugh, and it made you laugh, so it can't be all that bad."

Ukai looks at him for a moment, his lips pulling into a grin around the cigarette between his teeth. "You're a funny guy, Bokuto. You don't have to try to be funny, you just are."

"You really think so?" It's a small compliment, but Bokuto glows with the praise. He can't help but smile back at Ukai, who is now shaking a bag in order to better open it up.

The bag is handed to him, loaded with groceries. On top sits a jam jar, glimmering in the store lights. 

"Yeah, kid," Ukai says. "You are."

Bokuto arrives back at their dorm a short while later, clicking his tongue to the beat of a song stuck in his head. He unlocks the door and nudges it open with his foot, greeting Akaashi with his usual exuberance. 

Pencil in hand, Akaashi looks up at him from his seat at the desk. His eyes, still shadowed by dark circles, crease as he smiles ever-so-slightly, the apples of his cheeks nothing more than a soft swell in his cream-colored skin. 

"Thank you, Bokuto-san," he murmurs, gaze trailing down the lines of Bokuto's arm to the bag. "Did you get everything?"

Bokuto nods, and lifts the bag to demonstrate its weight. "Everything you asked for, 'Kaashi! What do you want for dinner?"

A request is placed for soup, and Bokuto is more than happy to oblige. He's made soup successfully about three times in his life - two of them were with Daichi's extreme assistance, too - but he's going to give it his best effort for Akaashi's sake. 

Bokuto whips out his phone and does a quick search online for an easy soup recipe and decides on one which is supposed to take about half an hour. He pulls out everything he thinks he'll need from the bag and pantry, filling a pot with water until he deems it enough. He's even going to try preparing a little bit beforehand, which he never does, because this soup is going to be the best soup ever made on planet earth.

Well, at least the best soup ever made in their dorm room.

The water, which has sat on the stove top for a few minutes now, has begun to burble to life. He tosses in some sliced vegetables (the cuts are uneven and wobbly in places, but he hasn't lost a finger in the process) and puts meat in another pan to cook. 

Another ten minutes later and it seems as though he might actually be getting the hang of things. Of course, that's when things go awry.

The pan with the meat begins to sputter, flinging dots of grease onto Bokuto's arm. He yelps in surprise and steps backward. In doing this, he loses his footing and through a series of undignified shouts and flailing motions, ends up on his ass.

Akaashi looks over worriedly. "Here, let me help you with that."

"No!" Bokuto nearly shouts, and winces at the volume. He grabs ahold of the counter and hauls himself up with a groan. "You need to rela - aah - ax."

Damn. That was going to leave a mark. He rubs his aching backside and straightens up entirely. 

"Let me help, Bokuto-san. I like cooking with company, anyways." 

Akaashi stands up and pads over to the tiny kitchen space. Bokuto shuffles to the side, biting down another wince, and manages a confident grin. Akaashi picks up the tongs that had flown onto the counter and deftly picks the slices of meat from the pan, setting them to the side. His fingers wrap around a ladle and his wrist turns in counterclockwise circles, sending the soup swirling around the pot's interior.

Bokuto watches as he moves back and forth across the front of the stove and the surrounding bit of counter space, easily dicing and stirring and pouring in a seamless manner. Every now and then, he motions with an elbow for Bokuto to watch what he does, and Bokuto devotes his full attention to each thirty-second lesson.

The twenty minutes flit by much faster than he expects them to, and soon their dorm is filled with the smells of rich spices and fresh vegetables. Bokuto brings down two bowls from a cupboard and sets them on the counter for Akaashi to ladle the soup into. He opens a window, sticking his nose out for a deep inhale of warm night air.

The two roommates sit across the kitchen table from one another, giving the usual thanks before eagerly spooning the soup into their awaiting mouths. The flavor seeps across Bokuto's tongue and he hums in amazement. 

"Wow Akaashi, this is really good!" Bokuto exclaims as he swallows down a piece of meat. He's quiet for a moment before his mouth flattens into the ghost of a frown. "I'm sorry you ended up making it, though. I wanted to help you out."

Akaashi fixes him with an unreadable stare, and for a split second Bokuto is reminded of Kenma's uncanny ability to read into others with just a cool gaze. He takes another spoonful of soup from the bowl.

"I don't mind at all. I like the company," Akaashi says after another moment. "And you're a quick learner. It helped me relax - well, except for when you fell, but I won't count that."

Bokuto turns his nose up at the words. "I'm going to pretend like you ended it by saying how relaxing I am to be around. The rest of that sentence does not exist."

Akaashi laughs quietly. "Fair enough. I like the recipe you chose, so it's alright."

"The soup is good," Bokuto agrees, swallowing down another spoonful of broth. It sits warm in his stomach and he knows he's going to sleep soundly tonight. "Thank you for making it with me."

"It was my pleasure," Akaashi hums, and Bokuto believes him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry it's been a while since i last updated!! i had a lot goin on (not bad stuff, i promise) but was determined to catch the end of bokuaka week :>>


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which the cafe staff gains its newest member and bokuto experiences a rare moment of calm.

The register jingles open as Bokuto hurries to find the correct change for a customer (who paid with like, way more money than could even be considered reasonable) and avoid holding up the line behind her. 

It's five o'clock, which is when the evening wave always begins to flow in, and he feels his fingertips light as they dance over the buttons of the register. He feeds off the upbeat energy that always accompanies a cozy coffee shop before the night hours and is always inclined to give people a bit of excess whipped cream to top off their drinks.

Hinata is behind him making drinks and jerking his hips back and forth haphazardly to the beat of the music. Bokuto laughs whenever he manages to crane his neck to watch, applauding whenever Hinata puts a little extra jazz into his hip motions.

The music picks up and at this point Hinata has thrown his shoulders into the motion as well. It's not that he's very good - no, he sort of looks like he's trying to shake off a bug - but he's by all means very fun to watch and Bokuto can't help but smile lopsidedly whenever his eyes land on his coworker. 

A booming call rings over the cafe music. 

"Looking good, Hinata!" 

The redhead in question freezes mid-hip swing. He swivels around, as does the boy whose order Bokuto was in the middle of taking. His face is screwed into an expression of mixed shock and embarrassment. 

A tall boy with extremely close-cropped hair and a wild grin has his eyes trained on Hinata. The boy beside him is much shorter - even more so than Hinata - with a blond streak at the front of his hair. His eyes shine with excitement when they land upon Bokuto at the register, whose face dons a similar expression a second later.

Hinata's face relaxes and he smiled widely. 

"Nishinoya-san! Tanaka-san!" He calls over the buzz of the cafe, waving frenziedly. 

He beckons them to the counter with a hand, though his expression flattens by a centimeter when he spies the dark-haired form trailing behind them. His eyes narrow into slits.

"What's he doing here?" Hinata hisses loudly. From the way Kageyama's eyes roll, it's evident that he's been overheard.

Nishinoya laughs, leaning on the counter in front of the glass. "We're making him study with us. Also, trying to make him drink real human stuff. We've caught him drinking straight milk in class multiple times and it makes me a little nauseous."

"It's not that weird!" Kageyama protests, though a hushing finger is placed over his lips by Tanaka.

"Yes it is," Tanaka assures him. "But fear not. We will convert you to the ways of sane people soon enough."

Kageyama grumbles, but nonetheless orders after the other two, fishing money out of his front pocket and stuffing it into Bokuto's palm. 

"I think that's enough," he mutters sheepishly, and Bokuto takes a moment to count it up before nodding brightly and handing him back his change.

He shuffles over to where Tanaka and Nishinoya are chattering on about something Bokuto can't quite make out, plopping down into his seat and letting his bag thud on the floor. _Well, he isn't the most graceful dude ever, but he seems pretty alright_ , Bokuto muses. 

Bokuto's train of thought is interrupted by the jingling of the door bell once again, and he peeks over to catch sight of a flustered-looking Yamaguchi stumbling into the cafe. He worms his way through the tables and pushes into the back, exiting a moment later with a ruffled head of hair.

Knowing the brunet, he's probably been killing himself with unnecessary stress all day about his first shift. Bokuto taps him on the shoulder from behind him, and Yamaguchi's panicked expression melts into one of relief at the sight when he turns around.

"Oh, hello!" Yamaguchi chirps. "Sorry if I look a little crazy, it's just my first day working here and I was running late so I started literally running and-"

Bokuto smirks, patting him on the head. "It's fine, bro. On my first day, I spilled hot coffee all over Suga and slipped in the puddle it made."

Yamaguchi laughs, drawing the attention of Hinata from where he stands making drinks. How he didn't take note of the earlier commotion, Bokuto is unsure, but he has an inkling that it may have to do with the certain grumpy customer sulking a few feet away. The redhead pokes his head over, face lighting up in glee.

"Yamaguchi!" Hinata cries, rushing over to high five their newest coworker. "Hi! It's your first day right? You're gonna love working here!"

Yamaguchi's hands come up as if he's trying to hide behind them. Bokuto snickers as his ears turn a shade of bright red. "Yeah, it's my first day. I have no clue what to do, though. I was so nervous that I went on autopilot for half of the orientation day they put me through."

Hinata frowns for a moment. Bokuto can almost hear the cogs turning in his head as he stands there, brows furrowed. After another second of pondering, he perks back up. "Hey, Bokuto! Think I could show Yamaguchi the ropes for a little while?"

Bokuto agrees enthusiastically, and nods approvingly as Hinata fist-pumps the air. The redhead grabs onto Yamaguchi's hand and tugs him over to the drink counter, crowing about all the different drinks to make and how he's gotten "really good at latte art lately - see, that one's a crow for Kageyama over there!"

Bokuto comes over to look, and applauds the work. It isn't a super obvious crow, but if one were to squint and tilt one's head a little, it could definitely work. He glances over at Kageyama and starts in surprise when he sees him glaring in their direction. His blue eyes pierce the back of Hinata's head, flickering between him and Yamaguchi, who is giggling beside the short redhead.

His eyes linger there for another moment before they slide over to Bokuto and go wide when their gazes meet. Bokuto crosses his arms and grins, arching an eyebrow. Kageyama freezes before sharply swiveling around and hunching over his textbook. Tanaka lightly punches his shoulder and says something, and now Kageyama is huffing as Nishinoya and Tanaka double over in peals of laughter. 

"That's a kickass crow," Bokuto agrees, nodding approvingly. "It could probably take on a smallish cat."

"Or a large-ish cat," Hinata argues.

Bokuto smirks down at him, offering a closed fist to the redhead for a fist bump. "That's the spirit!"

Yamaguchi whistles appreciatively, peering down at the foam bird. 

"You need to teach me that, Hinata! Maybe I'll be able to get Tsukki to drink some coffee every now and then if I'm able to make some cool art," the brunet marvels. His eyes, a brown similar to the coffee inside the mug, dance in the soft light of the cafe.

Hinata, never one to turn down an offer to show off a little, puffs out his chest and readily agrees. He calls out Kageyama's name and shuffles over eagerly, holding the mug between his hands. It's set carefully on the counter and slid over to where Kageyama stands. 

Kageyama looks down into its depths for a moment. He wears a look of slight confusion as his eyes flick back up to the still-shining redhead. 

"I didn't pay extra for any art," he says simply, cocking his head.

Oh?

Bokuto files this away in the folder labeled Things To Bring Up Later because this is going to make for some seriously interesting conversational topics in the future. God, Oikawa has totally been rubbing off on him lately.

Hinata falters for a moment and he juts out his lower lip. "Well I - I thought you looked extra crabby today. You were souring the mood of the whole cafe, and I wanted you to cheer up a bit, so I thought that I could practice some latte art on your drink."

"I'm not 'extra crabby' today," Kageyama frowns. He looks back down at the foam crow that has begun to dissolve slightly into the drink. "It's a nice crow. Fierce-looking."

The shorter boy visibly brightens. Man, Bokuto is getting a kick out of this - it's like watching a show on TV without having to pay for the shitty cable and faulty remote. 

"You think so?" Hinata chirps, leaning forward onto the counter. 

Kageyama nods (to Hinata's evident glee) and casts one last flickering look across the counter before he pulls the mug toward him and returns to his table. He sets it down slowly and deliberately, motioning to Tanaka and Nishinoya in what Bokuto can only imagine is a warning.

Bokuto spins around to face Hinata, fixing him with a curious stare. Yamaguchi is also looking over, having watched from where he stood at the drinks station. Hinata bounces here and there behind the counter, seemingly oblivious to his two coworkers' gazes. 

Yamaguchi looks over at Bokuto, obviously unsure of what he just witnessed, and Bokuto shrugs. This isn't an altogether unique experience, Hinata's weird little back-and-forth dance with the moody customer who has all but become a regular in the cafe, but it's never failed to mystify Bokuto. It's almost always awkward and blunt, coupled somehow with the occasional dash of altruism, and he can't make it out for the life of him. 

Truthfully, he isn't sure that either Hinata or Kageyama know what they're doing either. He might be giving them a little too much credit.

 _Imagine being that clueless_ , Bokuto thinks to himself, and he laughs.

\-----

It's a Friday night, and Bokuto has once again dragged Akaashi to Kuroo and Kenma's place in the name of a well-deserved break. 

Seriously, does Akaashi ever sleep? His eyes are practically always glued to his book, and when they're not stuck there, they're lodged on his masses of homework that never seem to wane no matter how many hours he spends poring over the papers. 

Bokuto will peek over every once in a while, scanning the form that seems to grow smaller by the day. A twinge of worry will sometimes trace its way down his spine and he'll find himself overcome by the desire to wrench the pencil out of Akaashi's slender fingers. The more time he spends around Akaashi, the more he comes to realize that he's not the only one who needs to be kept in check sometimes. 

"Bokuto-san, I promise that I'm fine," Akaashi argues, though Bokuto's firm grip on his arm refuses to lessen in its intensity.

Bokuto shakes his head as he half-pulls his roommate in front of the dorm's front door. "Not a chance. You're running yourself ragged, 'Kaashi. You need to relax. Say it with me. Re-lax."

"Re-lax," Akaashi sighs, and Bokuto nods appreciatively.

He knocks on the door with more force than is necessary, but since when does he ever half-ass things? The door cracks open and a small, golden eye peers through the crack. Satisfied with what it sees, its owner swings the door open wider. 

"Hello," Kenma says. He wears a large sweater (stolen from Kuroo, probably), its sleeves overtaking the palms of his hands. "Kuroo is trying to make food."

As if on cue, a resounding cry rings from the tiny kitchen area. Akaashi sighs again and casts a sidelong glance at Bokuto, as if to say "this is supposed to make me relax?"

Bokuto runs a hand down his face. "Kuroo, what the hell is going on in there?"

Kenma moves to the side as Kuroo gives another unintelligible shout from inside the doorway. The two guests quickly toe off their shoes and Bokuto makes for the kitchen, where Kuroo is standing at the stove, staring at it fearfully.

"It keeps shooting at me, man!" Kuroo yelps, and dances backward to avoid a splatter of hot grease. 

Bokuto stares from over his shoulder, regarding the charred pieces of meat in the pan with a mixture of wonder and horror. "Dude, how did you even manage to do that? They're like little hunks of charcoal."

Kuroo hisses as he sidesteps another barrage of grease. "You said you were worried about Akaashi, so I wanted to try and make dinner for us. I was trying to be nice, you jerkwad."

Bokuto holds his hands up in defense. He's about to open his mouth to protest when two small hands clasp onto his shoulders and steer him to the side. Kuroo is given the same treatment before Kenma darts to the stove and turns it off, tossing the charred bits of meat and running the pan under a stream of water. Steam erupts into the kitchen area. 

"Just turn the stove off, dumbass," Kenma says, rolling his eyes. "How are you so good at school and yet such an utter dipstick when it comes to basic skills?"

Kuroo snorts. "You're envious of my high school chemistry grades again, aren't you?"

Kenma mutters a "not a chance" and shuffles back to his previous spot on the couch. Akaashi lets out an amused-sounding chuff, which is probably a good thing, and Bokuto allows himself to relax again. He offers to help with the cooking - he's bad, but he's at least marginally better than Kuroo - and his proposition is quickly accepted. 

They decide on a much simpler meal for the second go-around (Bokuto isn't sure that the kitchen - or its inhabitants - will survive another attempt at the previous recipe) and immediately set to work. Kuroo opens his phone and begins to blast barely-decipherable American rap, and Akaashi and Kenma groan in tandem. Bokuto has learned that Akaashi is not one for overly-aggressive rap music (surprise, surprise).

The dorm quickly fills with the smells of cooking vegetables and the voices of various rappers discussing the women they romance (though they rarely talk about said women in such a polite manner) as Bokuto slices strips of meat. In his defense, he knows it doesn't exactly embody the phrase "musical genius," but it's fun to head-bang and yell to, so it pretty much meets his and Kuroo's standards for valid music choices. It's also not the worst music that their joint playlist has to offer by a long shot.

They finish cooking without any more major incidents, save the occasional too-aggressive flip of a vegetable, high-fiving as the last bits of meat are placed in the bowls of rice and cooked vegetables. 

Bokuto clears his throat, drawing the other two pairs of eyes onto him. "Gentlemen and gentlemen, dinner is served."

The meal is, admittedly, not half-bad. Sure, some of the vegetables are burnt on the bottom and some are a little too crunchy to be fully cooked, but it doesn't taste like bleach and that's what matters at the end of the day. It even garners a compliment from Kenma, who pointedly tells Kuroo that it's the closest he's gotten to "good" yet. Akaashi utters his agreement, and upon much prompting, fist-bumps Bokuto from across the table.

A phone chimes, and Kenma spares a glance down to his lap. He immediately breaks into a small smile - an occurrence that's about as common as being struck by a passing meteor - and types out a reply, fingers flying deftly across the screen. 

"Shouyou's almost here," he tells Kuroo, who pumps a fist in the air. 

Bokuto starts. "You know Hinata?" 

"Yeah, he's in a couple classes with me. You guys work together, right?" Kenma's eyes flicker back down to the screen and he quickly punches out another text. 

Bokuto then proceeds to grill Kenma for five minutes about everything Hinata has told him about how he acts at work - he'd probably drop dead if Hinata said a word about his reaction upon seeing Akaashi for the first time - only to get a few vague, noncommittal replies. He deems that he's likely safe, even if for the time being, and leans back in his seat.

"Who's Hinata?" Akaashi asks.

Bokuto turns to the raven and is startled to meet his cool gaze through the veil of his thick eyelashes. His brain malfunctions briefly and he is forcibly reminded of their first encounter. God, when it comes to pretty people, all rationality flies out of the window. He just becomes a - an amoeba. Bokuto doesn't remember what an amoeba is, but it sounds like how he feels.

He brings a hand up to rub at the back of his neck, feeling his palm brush over the short hairs there. "My coworker - you might have seen him working with me? Short, bright red hair, very loud?"

Akaashi snorts. "Very loud by normal people's standards or very loud by your standards? Those are two totally different things."

Ouchie.

"Yeah, get his ass, Akaashi!" Kuroo crows. 

Bokuto resists the urge to tackle him to the floor, but just barely. "Rude," he huffs, his shoulders sagging dramatically. 

He hears another derisive snort - probably from Kuroo, the jackass - and sighs. Akaashi taps him on the shoulder and he swivels his head away from the raven, shooting a mournful glance at the floorboards. There's the sound of fingers tapping on a screen, and a moment later, a quiet "ah" from where Akaashi sits. 

Akaashi taps him on the shoulder again, though it's to no avail. Bokuto isn't all that hurt by the jab; it was in good nature and besides, he's heard it plenty of times in less humorous contexts. That doesn't mean he isn't going to play it up a little bit. 

"Yo, Bokuto, wanna see this tweet of a baby owl?" 

Bokuto's head shoots up and he practically lunges for Kuroo's phone. "Show me!"

A knock sounds at the door, distracting Kuroo momentarily and thus giving Bokuto the split-second he needs to wrest the phone from his friend's clutches. Totally worth it, by the way. That was one hell of a baby owl. 

Kenma is at the door in a flash. He unlocks it quickly and opens it, greeting the newcomer with a wave. 

Hinata steps in, glowing like he always does. It isn't exactly a soft glow, like some people have. No, Hinata is more like someone found a handful of glow-sticks, cracked them all at once, and made a vest out of them. 

Some people, though, glow in a slow sort of radiance. It rolls across them like the warm golden hues of rich honey, setting their skin and eyes alight in the summer sun. Bokuto's eyes flicker to the raven sitting beside him before he shakes his head of the thought and greets the redhead with a booming hello. 

\-----

They end up watching a movie, as per usual. It's loud, with lots of explosions and vulgar language and cool sunglasses (arguably one of the most crucial elements to a truly good movie). 

By the time it's over, nearly half of the room is asleep. Hinata's head is propped up on Kenma's shoulder and he's snoring softly, a trail of drool slowly winding its way from the corner of his mouth. Kenma, meanwhile, is slouched over on Kuroo, who has adjusted to make himself the optimal pillow for the smaller boy. 

As he watches them, Bokuto finds himself suppressing a yawn. Akaashi chuckles beside him, though he, too, seems to stifle a small yawn as well. 

"Should we get going?" Bokuto asks, trying to be as quiet as possible, and Akaashi nods. 

They carefully pry themselves off of the couch. Akaashi nearly keels backward and clutches onto Bokuto's elbow for leverage in a frantic attempt to not jostle either of them awake. Bokuto's breath hitches for a moment before Akaashi lets go, and he furrows his eyebrows. What was with him today?

He looks back at Kuroo, who shoots him a thumbs-up and a toothy grin. Next to him, Kenma shifts ever so slightly, nestling his face in the space between Kuroo's arm and his side. Kuroo's eyes shoot open and he looks at Bokuto in gleeful surprise. Bokuto mimes applause, and his friend makes a motion with his arm as if he's taking a bow. 

When they're outside, Bokuto lets out an exaggerated breath. He beams at Akaashi and jabs his thumb back at the door, wiggling his eyebrows. 

"Did you see that? That was progress!" He exclaims as he jogs down the stairwell, taking two steps at a time.

He hears the Akaashi's footsteps stop a few stairs from the bottom, and swivels to make sure his roommate is alright. Akaashi is standing there, head cocked. 

"What do you mean, progress?" Akaashi asks. "Progress towards what?"

Bokuto falters. "Ah, shit. I totally gave that away, huh?"

Confusion is plastered across Akaashi's face. It isn't a look he usually wears, and for once, Bokuto is glad to be the one explaining things. 

He sighs, twining his arm around Akaashi's and marching them forward into the night air. "If anyone asks, you don't know jack shit, but Kuroo totally has feelings for Kenma. Like, not-just-friends feelings. Kenma's not very physically affectionate, so seeing him fall asleep on Kuroo got me super psyched."

"Ah."

Akaashi is quiet for a little while. Bokuto sags a little at the lack of visible excitement - that isn't exactly the most positive reaction to hearing that your roommate's best friend has the hots for another dude. A thought flicks by - that maybe Akaashi really _is_ straight, and what's more, super homophobic - and the coils of unease begin to settle in his stomach. God, what if he finds out that Bokuto is also into dudes and gets really uncomfortable? What if he asks to change dorms?

"They'd be a good fit," Akaashi murmurs after another moment. "I think it'll work out."

For what's probably the millionth time tonight, Bokuto lets out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding. "I think so too! They've been friends for like, forever, so I'm seriously rooting for Kuroo here."

Akaashi hums his agreement. "Kenma balances Kuroo out, I think. He holds him steady."

"Holds him steady?"

"Yeah. He grounds Kuroo, it seems. He's quiet where Kuroo's loud, but not in a dismissive way. Kuroo is someone special to him," Akaashi says, looking up at the light filtering through the leaves. "Some people do that. Balance each other out, I mean. They're like two sides of a coin."

The rays of the moon, unusually bright, illuminate the lines of his jaw and cheekbones, turning his eyes into pools of silver light. His hair looks as if to be liquid starlight, stray locks sent fluttering with the occasional breeze. He tips his head back further, and the light traces its way ever so gently across his collarbones. 

In this moment, Bokuto is astounded by the overwhelming sense of serenity that washes over him, cool and quiet. Waves of calm lap at the shore of his mind as he watches Akaashi flicker under the shade of the leaves, eyes trained skyward. 

"Yeah," he manages finally, tearing his eyes away from the vision walking beside him. "They really do fit together well."

It's silent for a moment. The only sounds are the faint warbling calls of a bird in the distance and the rustle of leaves above their heads. The air is cool and crisp; it kisses Bokuto's skin as he moves, as if to say its final goodbyes before the summer months truly push in with their drowsy heat.

"Bokuto-san?" 

Akaashi's voice is clear, ringing quietly through the night air like the chiming of a bell.

"What's up, 'Kaashi?" Bokuto leans over to grab at a leaf sticking out from a bush, pulling it apart with his fingers as he walks. The stem is the first to go, and next are the tiny veins that trace the leaf's green surface.

The raven exhales, and had it not been so quiet, it would have been nearly imperceptible. "I didn't mean to be rude earlier. I don't think you're too loud, or anything like that. I was completely kidding, in case it wasn't very obvious."

Bokuto has pledged a thousand times that comments about his volume control and excitability wouldn't bother him. To his credit, they often don't; he usually laughs along raucously, clapping his friends on the back and wholeheartedly agreeing. But now, as he hears Akaashi say this - that he isn't a bother, isn't obnoxious - a tiny something lifts from his chest. Because he wants Akaashi to like being around him, damn it, and that isn't going to happen if he finds Bokuto to be a royal pain in the neck. 

"Don't worry about it!" He chirps, and manages a cheeky smile. "Wouldn't bug me in a million years. I've heard it too many times to count, baby!"

Akaashi seems to falter at this, and Bokuto cringes. He probably sounds like he's trying to guilt-trip his roommate. Operation: Damage Control commences in t-minus three seconds. 

"Oh man, I didn't say that so you would feel bad!" He assures Akaashi, throwing his hands up. "I just meant that jokes like that haven't gotten under my skin in ages, really! Don't sweat it!"

"But still," Akaashi argues. He fixes Bokuto with one of his unreadable stares, steely irises flickering in the cool light of the moon. "I like your company. I wouldn't hang around you half as much as I do if your being around bothered me. I don't say things like this unless I really mean them."

Bokuto feels his cheeks warm at the admonition. It's so silly, how his demeanor can change with the tiniest compliment. But he gets the sense that Akaashi's compliments - if that's what that was - are rare, so he allows his pride to take the reins for a moment. 

"Aww, jeez!" Bokuto coos, and bats his eyelashes at Akaashi. "All this praise will go straight to my head, if you aren't careful."

Akaashi chuckles. "Can't have that. We've already got Oikawa, and it's a wonder that his head can fit through our front door."

Bokuto's laughter booms in the open night air. He casts a side glance at Akaashi, and shakes his head in wonder. "Man, am I glad you're my roommate and therefore obligated to be nice to me. You'd terrify me, otherwise."

"Good to hear it, Bokuto-san."

As Akaashi's laugh chimes quietly beside him, Bokuto picks up another leaf and begins to fiddle with the edges. A smile winds its way up his face, and he thanks the universe for - well, he doesn't know what for, yet. But he thanks the universe anyways.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ugh, sorry for another way-late upload. school started and they've stuck me in a couple terrible classes, so i needed a little moment to adjust. 
> 
> meanwhile: ha ha 100gecs make brain go brrrrr


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which bokuto gets a tutor and is subjected to incredibly awkward party talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> did i write an almost-7k word party chapter? yeah baby i did

"Akaashi," Bokuto whines as he steps into their dorm, drawing out the last syllable. He flops down face-first onto his bed, poking his head up to suck in a breath. 

The Akaashi in question does not look look up from his book. "Yes?" 

"I hate math. I hate it so much," he wails into his pillow. "I don't even need to know this stuff! I'm majoring in psychology!"

"Did anything in particular from today prompt this?" Akaashi asks, flipping a page. He peers over the top at Bokuto, who is now taking his residual anger out on his pillow. 

Bokuto thrashes the pillow around a few more times for good measure. "Failed a calculus test," he grumbles, staring daggers into in his lap. 

His cheeks light in embarrassment. His consistent failure to keep up to standards with math is one of his more prominent insecurities; no matter how many videos he watches or acronyms he memorizes, nothing ever sticks. The numbers and letters float through his brain, never quite settling.

It makes him feel stupid, and Bokuto hates feeling stupid. He knows he isn't, not really - he can be loud and excitable, and sometimes he forgets exactly how to spell certain long words, but he's not an idiot. Or at least, that's what he tells himself. It nags at him sometimes, the prickling words of _maybe you really are stupid_ that echo inside his brain when he gets a question really wrong. _I'm not_ , he bites back, but it never holds as much conviction as it should. 

Akaashi's voice pulls him from his thoughts. 

"I could help you, if you want. Math is one of the things I've always been better at." He pauses for a moment, breathing out a soft sigh. "I was always shit at history, though. I can never remember old names and dates for the life of me."

Bokuto bolts up from his slouch. "You mean it, Akaashi? You'd really help me with math?"

"Sure," Akaashi agrees, "it'd be no problem."

Bokuto feels a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth, urging them up to meet his ears. "Wow! You're the best roommate ever! I'll treat you to a million coffees as payment, I promise!"

Akaashi shakes his head in mock exasperation. "You'll do no such thing. I'm not offering because I want you to give me free caffeine, Einstein."

"I'm not that sneaky!" Bokuto laughs, but presses further, insistent. "I want to. But we have to go to Fukurodani because I will not support our competitors."

He's met with wholehearted agreement and they decide to begin their lessons the following day at six. He does manage to talk Akaashi into letting Bokuto buy him a coffee, and despite the former's protests of "only this once, Bokuto-san," he makes a mental note to so every time until they've worked through the whole menu (or he goes broke, either works).

Bokuto's phone chimes in his pocket and he fishes it out, noting the text that illuminates the screen.

(6:17) Kuroo: _yo dude terushima is having a party at 9 tmrw u wanna come?_

(6:17) Kuroo: _and bring akaashi_

He pokes his head up again. "Hey, Akaashi! Wanna come with me to a party tomorrow night?"

"Like, a big party?" Akaashi's expression is uncertain at best.

"Yeah," Bokuto admits, "probably. But I promise to not strand you or anything, and we can leave whenever you want, if you come with."

Akaashi's eyes slide down to his book for a moment before they trail back up to meet Bokuto's. "Yeah, I'll come. But I probably won't drink all that much, sorry."

Bokuto whoops and assures him that it's perfectly fine. He taps out a reply to Kuroo, who expresses his excitement via a number of all-caps text messages and a blurry selfie in which Kuroo is grinning like a maniac and Kenma has almost no expression on his face.

(6:20) oh boy kenma's just overjoyed huh

(6:20) Kuroo: _he totally is he's just awful at expressing it_

\-----

By 5:45 p.m. the following day, Bokuto is frantically tugging his shoes on, stumbling in his haste. It's as if he has a superpower, except it isn't a cool one like telekinesis or lazer beams - it's literally just him being late to anything and everything he deems important.

He tears out the door at full speed, descending the stairs as quickly as he possibly can. His feet pummel the pavement and his backpack bounces wildly, but hey, at least it's exercise. A student, eyes trained on the phone in his hand, missteps and Bokuto nearly barrels right into him, only avoiding a collision by a few inches. 

Bokuto arrives at the library five minutes before he and Akaashi are supposed to meet, opening the door and relishing the wave of cool air that greets him as he slips in. He finds a table in the center of the room and almost plops down in a seat before deciding that Akaashi might want a bit more space and relocating to a desk off to the side. 

He lays out his materials: his textbook, a couple pencils (in varying states of distress), an eraser with a multitude of puncture holes in it, a notebook with doodles of owls lining its edges. _Careful, he thinks with a groan, your poor work habits are showing._

A few moments later, he spots a familiar tuft of black hair sidling its way past the desks that line the library's center. 

"Hey," Akaashi says as he gently sets his bag onto the floor, sliding into the empty seat next to Bokuto. 

Bokuto beams, mouth tugging wide at the corners of his mouth. "Hey, hey, hey! How was class?"

Akaashi sighs, setting his chin in the open palm of his hand. He drums his nails on the wood of the desk and they thud dully to an unheard rhythm. 

"Boring," he admits. "But anatomy usually is, so I know to not get my hopes up."

Bokuto huffs sympathetically, offering a consoling pat on the shoulder to ease his friend's sorrows. Akaashi gives no indication that it was a success other than the beginnings of a smile that quirk at his lips. 

"So, how good are you at the whole epsilon-delta theorem stuff?" Bokuto takes a moment to shoot daggers at his textbook's cover. 

Akaashi asks for a moment to flip through the chapter, which his pupil happily agrees to. In an almost unfairly short amount of time, he is nodding his head in understanding and reaching for a pencil and the notebook. 

The hour and a half passes by much more quickly than any calculus class ever could. Bokuto messes up about one hundred times, and Akaashi offers him the eraser and a gentle correction for each one. They're surrounded by the quiet bustle of a lively library to flutter through their ears, accompanied by the lazy scratch of pencils and the muted turning of old books' pages.

Every now and then, Bokuto will grasp a concept and let out a hushed whoop. The first time around, he's sent a sharp look by a passing librarian, to Akaashi's visible enjoyment. He sends the raven a sidelong glare and pouts, but resolves to keep his celebrations quieter moving forward.

By the end, Bokuto thinks he's learned more about math in an hour and a half than he did in the past week. When Akaashi asks him to solve the final problem, he dives in eagerly, tongue slipping out ever so slightly from between the confines of his lips in concentration. He's smudged the side of his hand with lead and the desk's surface is littered with eraser shavings, but Akaashi's nod of approval upon scanning his answer is worth all the pencil nubs in the world. 

"Akaashi, you're a genius!" He cries as they step out of the library's front doors. His fist pumps once, then twice, into the warm air. 

The sun is setting, draping the world in a honey-golden light, and Akaashi's laugh chimes in harmony with a passing warbler's call. "I'm really not," he insists, "I just happen to be better at math than some other subjects." 

"Yeah, yeah," Bokuto scoffs playfully. He nudges Akaashi with his shoulder, who grins and pushes back with equal vigor. "You smart people always like to play humble, don't you?"

Akaashi looks ahead, watching the sun sink lower and lower in the evening sky. His eyes, momentarily without the cover of shade, are set aglow. "You're a smart person too, Bokuto-san."

"I can be a little dumb, sometimes," Bokuto laughs. "It's okay, though. I make up for it with my dashing good looks and funny jokes!"

Akaashi shakes his head; black waves are tossed to and fro. "You aren't dumb. You don't think you are, but you're a smart person."

Bokuto falters quickly as his mind makes a noise ridiculously similar to a computer's error notification sound. It's over as quickly as it began. 

"What about those dashing good looks and funny jokes of mine?" He prods, wiggling his eyebrows. 

The prompt is met with an eye-roll and a "don't push your luck, Bokuto-san."

\-----

Another hour and a half later, and the air is cool, whirling around them as they venture down the streets outside of the campus, guided by the maps app on Bokuto's phone. Terushima lives a short ways off of campus, no more than a ten minute walk, but Bokuto knows his own skills when it comes to directions and it would not look very cool to get both him and his roommate completely lost on the way to a party.

They arrive outside of Terushima's place a few minutes later, standing for a moment to drink in the rolling thump of music and the noisy chatter of people. Terushima's neighbors are either perpetually asleep or legally deaf, by Bokuto's guesses; no matter how loud he cranks the music or how many drunk partygoers stumble out of the front door in the early hours of the morning, not a single complaint has been lodged against him.

"You ready to get wild, Akaashi?" Bokuto crows, brimming with the excitement of a college student who's worked his ass off for a week and has now been offered free alcohol and music.

"As I'll ever be," Akaashi replies, brimming with the excitement of a college student who's been dragged to a party alongside his roommate (who'll probably end up puking his guts out into a toilet bowl).

Bokuto is dressed in a tight-fitting gray tee and black jeans. His hair is, as per usual, mussed at odd angles, which in his opinion makes him look taller. Oikawa has told him multiple times that it looks like he rubbed a balloon on his head. To this, Bokuto always replies that Oikawa looks as if he's never done a squat in his life, and the brunet shuts up. 

Akaashi wears a blue v-neck and gray jeans, paired with a pair of casual slip-on shoes. He somehow manages to make this look like the ideal casual party outfit, which seems a bit unfair to Bokuto, who spent the better part of fifteen minutes deciding between a gray and red top. 

The taller of the two grabs the shorter by the arm, pulling him along as he marches to the front door. Akaashi mumbles about being "able to walk on his own, thank you very much," but Bokuto's grip doesn't abate until he is rapping on the door's plain wood.

A boy Bokuto doesn't recognize stumbles to the door and yanks it open without any pretense of grace. He's tall, really tall, and looks to be foreign - an exchange student, maybe? His eyes are ablaze with the fires of cheap alcohol and loud bass. 

"Hello!" He shouts with a grin, and Akaashi flinches at the volume from where he stands. Bokuto's smiling wildly. "Come on in, guys! Drinks are in the kitchen!"

"Alright!" Bokuto cheers, and tugs Akaashi into the house as the tall boy sidesteps to let them in.

The music is loud, pounding at Bokuto's eardrums with the steady thrum of a heavy bass and intense, almost incomprehensible voices. People line the walls and push back and forth within the rooms, some crowding couches and chairs and others the kitchen table and various corners of the house. 

A flash of dark hair pulls Bokuto's attention and his gaze flits to a couch, where a couple of guys are feverishly making out. He recognizes the broad back that's turned to him and he chuckles, running a hand through his hair.

"Daichi, you exhibitionist!" He calls as he pushes through the throngs of people to the couch. Akaashi trails behind him, seemingly unwilling to get lost in the press of bodies. 

Daichi quickly unlatches his lips from where they're glued to Suga's neck and whirls around, eyes wide. He pulls a face when his eyes meet Bokuto's victorious ones and groans. 

"Oh, god," Suga says, laughing despite himself. "Hey, Bokuto! Sorry you had to see that, Daichi just gets so horny when he's drunk and-"

Daichi's hand flies to cover his mouth. 

"He's a filthy, filthy liar who roots for my downfall. He jumped me ten minutes ago and I'm a weak man." His dark eyes slide to Akaashi, who's watching the spectacle with moderate interest. "Glad to see you here! I didn't think Bokuto would succeed in guilt tripping you to leave the house."

"I don't guilt trip!" Bokuto whines, but he's quickly silenced by three blank stares that turn on him. 

"You pull the puppy eyes at least once a day at work," Suga reminds him, and his shoulders fall to a slouch. 

Well, he's right. It's not always an intentional thing, but Bokuto has completely, one hundred percent mastered the art of the pleading gaze and uses it to his advantage whenever the opportunity presents itself. 

"I'm not going to drink much," Akaashi explains to Daichi over Bokuto, who's still spouting protests. "I wouldn't have come if I didn't feel like I could handle myself."

Suga perks up. "Bokuto! You seem to have found yourself an extremely responsible roommate! Good for you."

Bokuto puts his fists on his hips and tilts his chin upwards. "I absolutely have. Isn't Akaashi the coolest roommate ever?" He nudges Akaashi with his elbow, who allows a small smile in response. 

"I might have a cooler one," Daichi says, and nuzzles into Suga's neck. 

Bokuto groans and tugs at Akaashi's arm. "Ugh, let's go. They get so gross when they're buzzed."

As they utter goodbyes and flee to less disgusting corners of the house, Bokuto swears he hears Suga giggle and murmur something about managing to drive them off. God, he's friends with some real raunchy people. 

Akaashi tells him that he's going to try and find a bathroom, and Bokuto nods, watching his slender form disappear into the masses of people. He then begins to scan the rooms for anyone he knows, because if there's anything that feels utterly lame, it's standing alone at a party. 

Soon enough, a tall figure catches his eye, standing off to the side with a red cup in hand. He's scowling down at its contents as a small brunet beside him chatters in a lively manner with a small blonde girl to his left. 

"Tsukki!" Bokuto yells over the music, drawing the taller boy's eyes up from his cup. When his eyes land on Bokuto, who's fervently pushing toward the trio, his mouth twists sourly. 

Bokuto lands a tiny bit closer to the blonde girl than he intended, and she leaps back with a tiny screech. He immediately straightens up and shoots her a crooked grin. 

"Sorry!" he puffs through his teeth. "Getting places in a house party is a full-body contact sport."

"It's alright! I should have paid more attention!" she squeaks. 

Yamaguchi, who had seemed startled at first but has now regained his familiar fuzzy glow, begins to introduce Bokuto to Yachi, another communications major. She waves and greets him in a tinkly voice; Bokuto is for a moment reminded of a small bird. 

Tsukki (Bokuto can't remember his full name for the life of him) stays quiet throughout the introductions and the ensuing conversation, and to be honest, it's totally weirding Bokuto out. He talked before, in the coffee shop, even if it was just a little, and now he's glaring down at his cup with more ferocity than Bokuto had previously imagined anyone could ever glare at free alcohol.

"Tsuki-bleh-bleh! What's got you down, my man?" He prods, ruffling the blonde's hair. His hand is shaken off with a sharp jolt of the head. 

"It's Tsukishima." The multicolored lights of the party bounce off of the lenses of his glasses, turning his eyes various shades of blue and red. His mouth is still pressed into a bitterly unwavering line, betraying no discernible emotion. 

Bokuto flinches. _Jeez, this guy must have the world's largest stick rammed right up his skinny ass_ , he thinks, lips quirking to the side. _Someday I'll help him with it. Wait, no. That sounds sexual. I don't want to like, actually-_

Yamaguchi's voice pipes up. "He's right, Tsukki! Are you okay? Do you want to go home?"

"I'm fine. Nothing has me upset," Tsukishima replies curtly, but his eyes lose a fraction of their icy glare. 

"Oi, tall, gray, and spiky!" A familiar crowing voice cuts over the thrum of music. Kuroo waves as he approaches, ever-present smirk unfaltering even as a bit of his drink sloshes into his shirt. "You made it!" 

Bokuto's grin widens maniacally. "As if I'd skip on a party, bro! I totally needed this!"

Kuroo claps him on the back, stopping between him and Tsukishima, who's looking blankly at the two of them. Bokuto can't help but feel a little judged by the flat gaze that falls upon him.

"And who are you?" Kuroo snickers, jerking his head at Tsukishima. "You look like you need a drink, my man."

Tsukishima looks pointedly at the red cup in his hand, then back at the raven-haired newcomer. It seems as though he is actively trying to draw his shoulders up toward his ears. "Tsukishima. And I've got one, thanks."

Kuroo puts a hand on his shoulder - _he has to reach up, for once_ , Bokuto notes - and jostles the blond slightly. "Lighten up, dude! You've got a total cutie standing right next to you - make that two, including myself - not to mention our resident hottie-"

At this, he jabs a thumb at Bokuto, who puffs out his chest and waves him off with an air of faux humility. "-and you're standing there looking angry about it! Dude, you're in hot guy heaven right now."

Yamaguchi is now an incredibly alarming shade of red. He shuffles in place next to Tsukishima. They both look as though they're trying to blend in with the wall behind them whilst making herculean efforts to not spare a glance at one another.

Another few moments pass in a similar fashion before Yachi squeaks out a "Kiyoko-san!" and waves frantically in the direction of what may be the prettiest girl Bokuto has laid eyes on in his whole life. The black-haired girl brightens slightly at the call of her name, and beckons Yachi over with a well-manicured hand. Yachi utters a goodbye and slips away, heaving a breath.

"Hey, Kuroo, where's Kenma at?" Bokuto asks suddenly. 

Normally, Kenma is practically hanging off of Kuroo's jacket at these sorts of things. If there are two things Kenma doesn't seem to like, they're crowds and drunk people he doesn't know. Unfortunately, with parties, there seems to be an abundance of both. 

Kuroo barks out a laugh. "Ah, we got him into a bedroom and locked the door pretty early on. He didn't want to be stuck on some couch all night or have some couple try to fuck while he's playing Animal Crossing, so I promised I'd bring him snacks and keep him company every now and then."

Bokuto nods. It's the most Kuroo and Kenma solution he can think of, really - Kuroo doing his best to accommodate his quiet roommate's needs and Kenma doing his best to stay wholly out of the line of action. 

"By the way," Kuroo muses, "where's Akaashi? I thought you said he was coming, too."

Oh shit, Akaashi. He's probably been looking for Bokuto this whole time, and he very likely doesn't know anyone. God, if he's been standing in a corner this whole time, Bokuto is going to feel like such a jackass. 

"Shit! He left for the bathroom like, ten minutes ago! I'll go find him and we'll be right back!" Bokuto cries, nearly stumbling over himself in his haste. 

Behind him, Kuroo assures Tsukishima and Yamaguchi that he'll be keeping them company in the meantime. Bokuto chuckles loudly, and he's pretty sure Tsukishima groans in response. 

A couple minutes later, he's searched roughly three-quarters of the house. Bokuto pushes into the living room - it's right next to the room he was just in, he'd simply gone in the opposite direction - and heaves a sigh of relief when his eyes land on Akaashi's lithe form. In the next second, however, his gaze flickers to the guy who has seemingly caged him into a corner by way of what's probably supposed to be a casual arm pressed against a wall. 

The guy is taller, with dark hair and a triumphant-looking grin plastered on his face. Bokuto can't make out what he's saying from across the room, but from the expression on Akaashi's face and the way the stranger is leaning closer by the second, he knows it's nothing that his roommate is comfortable with. Bokuto stands rooted to the spot as a hand traces its way up to Akaashi's shoulder, who quickly tries to shrug it off.

Hot coils of anger begin to settle in his stomach, winding their way into his chest. Who the hell does this creep think he is, moving in on Akaashi in the middle of a party filled with people he doesn't know? And now he's putting his hand on his shoulder again, and Bokuto is watching as it winds its way up to the dark curls of hair that rest at the nape of his slender neck, and suddenly he is no longer frozen in place. 

Bokuto fumes his way over to where the creep is laying his filthy hands all over Akaashi's shoulder and neck and taps him none too lightly on the shoulder. Akaashi's face melts into an expression of relief as the stranger whips around and his mouth warps into a frown. 

"I think my friend would appreciate if you would please take your hands off of him," Bokuto says lowly, eyes refusing to break contact with the dark ones of the stranger. "You're making him uncomfortable."

The stranger sneers at him, nose scrunching in distaste as if something has recently left a poor taste in his mouth. "He didn't say so. And who asked for your opinion, asshole?"

Bokuto inhales deeply, drawing himself up to his full height. It's in instances like this when he's glad to be more broadly built than the majority of his peers - his frame is considerably larger than that of the stranger, and he's got at least an inch or two on him on height. He feels his eyes narrow ever so slightly. "To be honest, man, I don't care whether someone asked. He doesn't want you touching him. Back off."

Thankfully, the guy takes this as a cue to leave rather than instigate a full-blown fight. Bokuto is secretly glad - he doesn't like physically fighting, and really has no experience in that field outside of good-natured tussles with his friends and the one slightly-effective punch he threw in his freshman year of high school when someone had decided to pick on his little sister. 

"Fine. Not worth my time, anyway," the guy mutters, and slinks off, withdrawing his arm from the wall. He tosses a final sneer over his shoulder before pushing his way into the mass of people. 

When he's gone, both Bokuto and Akaashi seem to deflate a little. Bokuto manages a laugh and runs a hand through his hair. 

"Thank you for that," Akaashi breathes. "He wouldn't leave me alone, even when I said I came with someone."

Bokuto shakes his head. "You don't have to thank me, really. I just hated seeing that creep all over you, especially since you looked so grossed out."

Akaashi's lips turn up at the corners, and he offers Bokuto a light shoulder-punch. "Regardless, I appreciated it a ton. That was the first time I've seen you mad, I think." 

"Yeah, I don't get mad much," Bokuto admits sheepishly. "Just when people screw with my friends. Or like, insult my volleyball skills." 

"Remind me to not mess with your friends, yeah?"

"Deal, but you have to keep me posted when guys hit on you, so I can drive em off." It takes a moment for Bokuto to notice the error in his words and he frantically searches for a roll of duct tape to fix his wrecked brain cells. "I mean, not all the guys who hit on you, just the creepy ones - unless they're all creepy, so - ah, you know what I'm getting at, damn it!"

And then Akaashi laughs, and it's so unexpected that Bokuto can't help but laugh too. They stand there for a moment, engulfed by stupid giggles, and as Akaashi's eyes squeeze together in the throes of amusement Bokuto is struck by how pretty his friend is. Like, ridiculously pretty. It's going to be a lot of work warding off all of the creeps who want a chance at someone like Akaashi Keiji. 

"Thanks," Akaashi says, straightening up; a slight smile still rests on his lips. "Now, would you take me to your friends?"

" _Our_ friends, Akaashi!"

"You're right, my bad. Our friends."

\-----

In the ensuing couple of hours, Bokuto finally gets a taste of alcohol.

(It's definitely more than just one taste.)

Their group - initially the two of them plus Kuroo, Tsukishima, and Yamaguchi - has nearly tripled. Daichi and Suga found their way over, their necks decorated a little more than Bokuto remembered from when he last saw them. Yachi and Kiyoko have also rejoined them, closely tailed by Tanaka (who has been frantically proposing to the latter for the better part of twenty minutes) and Nishinoya, who had to be forcibly dragged from the dance circle. 

Hinata and Kageyama showed up a little while later (together, and still bickering), as did Oikawa and Iwaizumi (also bickering). A tall, well-dressed brunet man with a goatee and a bun introduced himself as Asahi and was immediately half-tackled by Nishinoya. He righted himself, blushing furiously, and waved shyly as the (much) shorter of the two proudly announced that they were an item.

At this, Tanaka began the first in a series of increasingly raucous and explicit catcalls, to all of which Nishinoya stood and bowed. Asahi sunk down into his chair, but was quickly flanked by Daichi and Suga (it seemed that they were already well-acquainted) and pulled upright. 

Now, they've pulled a ridiculous number of chairs around a much too-small table, eagerly chattering over one another and leaning across the table to jab index fingers in each others' faces for the sake of making a particularly hard-hitting point. 

Bokuto chuckles loudly as Iwaizumi delivers a brutal dig at Oikawa's "lacking ass," as he so kindly puts it, and is immediately silenced by a sharp glare from the latter. Hinata and Kageyama are seemingly determined to drink each other under the table, which is an extremely slow process; they've gotten sidetracked three times in the past five minutes, each time because of an ongoing debate on the correct way to make cereal.

"You can't just - hic - put the milk in first!" Hinata cries, wringing his hands.

Kageyama huffs obstinately. "You can. The cereal goes on top."

Oikawa lets out a small "ew" and wrinkles his nose. Iwaizumi tells him he looks like he just bit into a lemon and he sticks out his tongue in response, though laughter glints behind the chocolate-brown of his irises.

Kiyoko and Suga are discussing the latest episode of a show with a name Bokuto can never remember. Daichi's head rests on Suga's shoulder, the pale-haired man reaching over every now and then to run a hand through the dark brown locks. On either side of Kiyoko, Tanaka and Yachi are hanging on every word with rapt attention. 

Tsukishima and Yamaguchi talk softly, all hushed whispers and side-eyes and muted snickers, speaking in a language all their own. The blonde looks considerably more at ease than he had before - his face is less drawn, the hardness in his eyes replaced by a layer of mirth. He snorts as Yamaguchi utters something else - probably about the cereal debate happening across the table - and Bokuto feels his mouth twitch. 

Akaashi sits next to Bokuto, chatting quietly with Kenma, who sits directly across from him. Yowls sound from the pudding-head's side as Kuroo desperately tries to wrench a handheld game from his grasp. Kenma easily avoids the attempts, spinning in his seat and hunching over as needed. Kuroo begs for Kenma to grant him a morsel of attention and is quickly rebuked with the statement that he "gets plenty of attention as it is with that haircut."

"You love me, though," Kuroo urges, and Kenma rolls his eyes. 

"Oh, totally," the smaller boy says with a dismissive wave, and Kuroo leans back, satisfied. 

Kenma's lips tip up in the tiniest of smirks, eyes unmoving from his screen. "Not as much as Shouyou, though." 

Kuroo gapes for a moment before rearranging his face into a scowl. He makes a slightly more aggressive grab for the game before sitting back, arms crossed. "That was uncalled for." 

"Kou-chan!" From next to Kuroo, Oikawa begins to wave frantically. The look in his eyes is one of cunning excitement. 

Bokuto groans. Whenever Oikawa gets that look on his face, it's because he's about to say something stupid. This coming from the guy who apportions half of all the time spent with his best friend to be used wrestling said best friend to the floor, it's not good. 

He sighs resolutely; beside him, he sees Akaashi's head turn in their direction. "Yeah, Oikawa?"

Oikawa picks at a nail. Bokuto knows that this is done entirely to look casual because Oikawa's nails are never anything but uniformly rounded and clipped. "Iwa-chan thinks I'm a rotten, stinking virgin."

"I don't think I phrased it like that," Iwaizumi deadpans. "I do think you're totally bluffing, though." 

Oikawa tsks. "Regardless, your point was the same. But Kou-chan can vouch for me - can't you?"

He looks expectantly at Bokuto, brown eyes drilling holes into his temples. Bokuto shifts in his chair and is suddenly uncomfortably aware of Akaashi's imploring gaze from next to him. Iwaizumi's eyebrows are arched up high on his forehead. 

"Well, uh, yeah," Bokuto says intelligently. His mouth is paper-dry. 

Oikawa, the jerk. They never bring that instance up; it was a drunken, loneliness-driven mistake on both of their ends that was nothing better than half-assed, sloppy pushing and pulling in between bedsheets. Oikawa had been desperately trying to ignore his feelings for Iwaizumi and Bokuto had been - well, he'd been trying to outrun his own lack of connections entirely. 

They'd woken up the following morning, hopelessly tangled in Oikawa's sheets, and immediately burst into a fit of laughter. Bokuto had driven his face right into the plush center of a pillow and kept it there until he had to gasp for a breath. 

"God, let's never do that again," Oikawa had said, and Bokuto had wholeheartedly agreed. 

Now, he's been put on the spot in front of the subject of his friend's affections and his own extremely pretty roommate, and it's up to him to bring this up in a totally casual, not-weird way. Oikawa shoots him a prodding gaze. 

"What does that mean?" Akaashi murmurs from beside him. 

Bokuto starts. "Ah, well, we ended up - we were totally drunk and it was a mistake, but - oh, man-" 

"We slept together, once," Oikawa announces, much louder than necessary. 

Iwaizumi's mouth drops open, as does Bokuto's. _So much for subtlety_ , he groans internally. Oikawa looks incredibly smug, which seems incredibly out of place considering the half-ton of discomfort that has dropped down on their section of the table. 

Bokuto sneaks a glance at where Akaashi sits beside him and is startled to meet a pair of steely eyes. The gaze bores into his face; it's foreign in nature, so different from the warmth that can usually be found there. The glimmer of amusement that usually hides behind his irises is nowhere to be found. 

He scrambles to remedy the very obvious mistake Oikawa has made - Iwaizumi is now pointedly looking at the table's surface, face hardened, and Akaashi yet to make a sound. "It was a drunken mistake we made ages ago, though! I don't even remember most of it!"

He sends out a silent prayer - that Oikawa will keep his big mouth shut, that Akaashi will say something, that Iwaizumi will quit looking at the table as if it shot his pet dog. Anything, really. 

None of those things happen, because since when has the universe ever been cooperative with Bokuto Koutarou's wishes? 

"I do." Oikawa flutters his eyelashes provocatively, and Bokuto literally groans. The chocolate browns of his eyes skit from Bokuto to the raven sitting beside him, and something flashes from under his lashes. "Kou-chan _delivers_."

In the ensuing seconds, two things happen. 

Firstly, Bokuto lunges across the table to clap a hand over Oikawa's mouth (lest he decide to staple it shut instead). He misses, ricocheting back into his seat. 

At the same time, Iwaizumi is standing up and wrapping a hand around and under Oikawa's shoulder. He hauls the smaller brunet to his feet, fixing him with a final hard glare, and drops his arm. 

"I've had enough to drink," Iwaizumi grits out, and turns swiftly on his heel, marching off in the direction of the door.

Oikawa is practically glowing. His eyes gleam with a wild, cunning sort of excitement - the look of a man who has gotten exactly what he intended to get. He spins around to follow, shooting an enthusiastic "thanks for the help, Kou-chan!" over his shoulder as he skitters off. 

Bokuto slumps forward, letting his forehead thump against the table's surface. Next to him, he faintly registers Hinata's shouting and Kageyama's grumbled reply. "What the fuck was that?" He moans. 

Akaashi's voice is quieter than usual. Bokuto can barely make it out over the rolling melody of the music. "He was making Iwaizumi jealous, and it worked."

"Couldn't he do that without bringing me into it?" Bokuto wrenches his head up from the table. "That was so awkward, Akaashi!"

"Very."

Bokuto sighs. The weariness that always accompanies a night of drinking and yelling is beginning to hit; he feels his energy draining through his feet into the floor. His eyelids flutter closed for a moment before he forces them open again. The air feels stuffy and hot, the music too loud. 

"Akaashi?" He mumbles. 

The raven's voice is lulling against the bump of the music that thunders across the house. "Yes, Bokuto-san?"

"Can we go home?"

Akaashi chuckles, or at least comes as close as he's capable. It's really just an amused exhale. "Yeah, let's go home."

Bokuto pulls himself to his feet and they spend the next few minutes saying goodbyes (and second goodbyes, sometimes - Tanaka seems to have forgotten the first round of goodbyes and insists on bidding them farewell "for real"). Kuroo claps him on the back and nods unevenly at Akaashi, slurring an "adios, amigo."

They step out of the house, greeted by a rush of cool air. Bokuto feels it flood his lungs and stands up straighter as it pushes a bit of the fuzziness from his mind. 

He grabs at a stray leaf that flutters by as they walk in silence, missing by a few inches. Akaashi's eyes are trained ahead, though Bokuto notices them flicker to him every once in a while when he stumbles. It isn't as though he fake-stumbles once or twice to revel in the attention, but it isn't as though he doesn't, either. 

The silence is unlike most of their silences. Often times, silences with Akaashi are comfortable, filled with the hum of a television or the running of water or the flipping of a book's pages. This, however, is filled with a cottony sort of tension, something that Bokuto can't put a name on but hovers between them nonetheless. 

He hates awkward silences. He's experienced them millions of times, when he makes a joke that goes just a pinch too far or laughs a little louder than necessary. Akaashi never makes him feel awkward. Not even tonight - no, this was his doing, and it's his job to duct-tape the gap that he and Oikawa sliced back together. 

Truthfully, he doesn't know why it's so uncomfortable. It's probably because Akaashi doesn't know his friends all that well and he was suddenly shoved into a conversation about their sex lives, but even then, Bokuto can never be entirely sure. He's great at reading others, sure, but that seems to never apply when he's directly involved. He's flying blind, so to speak. 

He clears his throat and feels Akaashi's eyes dart to him. "Uh, just so you know, Oikawa and I - we don't like, regularly do that. We were drunk at a party one time and he was upset about Iwaizumi and I was lonely, and it was a major mistake-"

"Bokuto-san," Akaashi's voice cuts in, and Bokuto cringes at that same unfamiliar, detached tone. "You don't owe me any explanation. It's your life, and it doesn't concern me. Don't worry."

Bokuto turns to look at Akaashi. His eyes are fixed ahead once again, impassive, but it seems as if something is dancing behind the veils of his lashes, something that wasn't there before. 

"Still," Bokuto presses, fueled by whatever it is that he can't quite place, "I don't want you to think that I'm the sort of guy who, I don't know, sleeps around when he's bored. Because I'm _not_. I mean, I know it looks that way because of what Oikawa said, but it was only the one time." 

When Akaashi says nothing, he continues. 

"It was a while ago, and I regretted it because I had promised myself to only sleep with people who I had feelings for." He rubs the back of his neck. The buzz in his head is almost entirely gone. "It's been a long time since I've even done things with anyone, which now that I say it is probably way TMI, so just forget that last bit, yeah?"

Akaashi chuckles now, and it's genuine, more than the half-quirked attempts at smiles that have been on his lips for the past hour or so. "Sorry to hear it," he says, and Bokuto hears the amusement dripping from his tone.

"I wasn't telling you that so you could make fun of me!" He groans, earning another laugh from his right. 

"I know," Akaashi hums. "But I'm going to make fun of you for it, I think. Consider it payback for making me sit through that ordeal back there."

Bokuto claps a hand to his forehead. "Even that was at my expense! And what do I have to show for it? Nothing!"

"If it makes you feel better, Oikawa's probably getting laid right now."

"Wh - no! Why would that make _me_ feel better? You're so mean to me, 'Kaashi. You hear me? So! Mean!"

"I hear you, loud and clear."

The buzz edges further from Bokuto's mind under the cool night air, and as he crashes into his pillow ten minutes later, the world fades to black much more easily than he had expected it to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello!! i realized that i never reply to comments - for anyone who's reading this and has left a comment, please know that i read them all (multiple times!) and they truly motivate me to keep with this :) the support means the WORLD to me and i love each and every one of you!!!


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which oikawa offers his thanks and bokuto finally sheds some mental weights.

"Thank you, Kou-chan! Thank you, thank you, thank you!" Oikawa's voice chirrups from Bokuto's phone speaker.

Bokuto frowns at the face peering at him from his screen and bunches his eyebrows together. "Akaashi thought I was a man-whore."

Oikawa laughs, which only causes the creases between Bokuto's eyebrows to multiply in rank. "He knows you aren't. I do think I know why he was looking all grumpy, though!"

"Well, why?" Bokuto asks, though the frown drops from his face. "I was worried he was angry at me!"

He flops onto the couch, back against the cushions. The hum of the small air conditioning unit rings through the dorm space, keeping the warm, stagnant air outside at bay. A bird sings from outside, its warbling cries heralding the pre-summer heat.

"If I told you, it would be no fun for me," Oikawa says, a sly smile creeping up his lips. Bokuto's face scrunches again and he's prepared to protest when the brunet continues. "No, I'm kidding. But if I'm right, it's not really my place to say. I am a man of high moral standing, you know."

"Didn't you use me to get your shit rocked by Iwaizumi two nights ago?" Bokuto jabs, and Oikawa rolls his eyes.

His eyelashes flutter dramatically as his voice crackles through the speaker of Bokuto's phone. "That's beside the point, Kou-chan. Anyways, I gotta go study! Majoring in business is no small task, as you know."

"I know, I know," Bokuto groans. "You've said that before. A lot."

The following couple of minutes are accompanied with a small argument between Bokuto, who accuses Oikawa of bragging about how great he is too often, and Oikawa, who vehemently denies doing anything of the sort.

Because Oikawa The Big Man On Campus And Resident Business Major Extraordinaire has to study for his exam and thus cannot bicker about the size of his ego for much longer, they elect to call it a tie. They exchange quick (but affectionate) goodbyes and Bokuto's screen flickers to black as the line goes dark.

He pries himself out of the crevice between couch cushions which has all but swallowed him up, leaning forward with a low hum. _Oikawa works so much_ , he thinks, lips drawing into a small frown. _I hope he's been sleeping lately._

It's true. For all the jokes that he and the rest of their friends make about Oikawa being an airhead, they all know that he's one of the most dedicated business majors to walk the earth. That's how he's always been, really. Even in high school, he threw himself into becoming the best volleyball player and captain he could be.

But it came at a cost; Oikawa's dedication had the tendency to run much too deep. He could be overly confident and arrogant, sure, but he was also riddled with insecurities a mile wide. Oikawa, the proud person that he was - and still is - would never admit to such things unless they got really bad.

They'd gotten really bad before. Among other things, he'd nearly lost his love for volleyball entirely. He had let his jealousy of others and the worry that he would never measure up eat him alive, taking with it his enchantment with the bounce of a ball on the hardwood floor of a gym. It was sad, even from a distance; Bokuto hadn't known him very well then, but he could see the pallor of his skin from the other side of the net.

And for all that he had worked - all the hours that he had trained, the nights he had chosen to forgo sleep to review tapes, the tears he shed in the quiet, dark hours of the morning - he had lost his final chance to make it to nationals.

He'd gotten up on his feet again, because that's what Oikawa did. He doesn't let life knock him over and choose to lay on the ground. No, Oikawa Tooru is the sort of person who grabs any sort of handhold possible and hauls himself up, probably kicking life in the shins if it's within reach.

Still, though, Oikawa lets his want for success overrun him. He spreads himself too thin - sleeps too little, locks himself in his room too much - and only ever realizes that he's doing it when someone else intervenes. Thus, Bokuto, Kuroo, Daichi, and the rest of their friends keep a watchful eye on Oikawa.

Even if that means forcibly dragging him from his dorm and to the university's volleyball court. This has happened multiple times; Bokuto can say from previous experience that Oikawa has a truly mighty left kick.

Speaking of studying, though, Bokuto should probably pack up the stuff he'll be needing for tutoring with Akaashi later. As he's stuffing his textbook and notebooks into his bag (shoved in there alongside wadded up sheets of paper from old homework assignments), he takes extra care to bring along enough money for two coffees.

\-----

He bursts into Fukurodani Coffee at 6:02 p.m. His backpack swings wildly and slams into his back as he comes to an abrupt stop, quickly scanning the cafe for a familiar head of inky black hair. Upon spying Akaashi's form, his back turned to where Bokuto stands in the doorway, he lets out the smallest of relieved whoops.

Bokuto inches by the tables around the sides of the room and slams both hands down on the table as he plops into the seat opposite Akaashi. This causes Akaashi to jolt in his seat, eyes momentarily drawing wide and flashing up from the book he has in his hands.

"Next time, slamming a mallet down on the table might be quieter, Bokuto-san," He mutters through a chuckle. "You didn't have to be so violent when you sat down."

Regardless, though, his lips are quirked up in an easy smile, and his eyes spark with humor behind the lenses of his reading glasses. _Hold on_ , Bokuto thinks, and presses the mental rewind button. _Glasses?_

A pair of thin-rimmed glasses sit upon the bridge of his nose, enlarging his eyes ever so slightly as they dance behind the lenses. The frames are a dark navy blue color, and Bokuto decides that they accent his face very nicely.

"You have glasses on," He says matter-of-factly.

Jesus Christ.

Akaashi's eyes widen and he pats at his face. "You're kidding. Do I really?"

Bokuto sighs and he slumps onto the table, giving his roommate the stink eye over the crook of his elbow. "You know what I meant. I don't ever see you with glasses on."

"Yeah, because I look like a librarian," Akaashi hums, and takes the glasses neatly off of the bridge of his nose, folding them and tucking them away in the pocket of a bag. "I really only wear them when I'm not around people I know, because it isn't really like my eyes need them much. They just help me to focus."

Bokuto clears his throat. Then he does it again, because he's pretty sure that a bubble of air got trapped in his windpipe the first time. "Well, you can wear them around me. I don't think you look like a librarian. I think you look good in them."

Immediately after the words leave his mouth, he feels the tips of his ears light on fire. _Way to tack on a compliment there, Koutarou. Very casual._

"I mean, you don't look like a librarian," he coughs out. "The glasses are cool."

He doesn't know why he's all antsy about giving Akaashi what is literally the least homoerotic compliment on the planet. Bokuto dishes out compliments like it's nobody's business to all of his friends, and if said friends are close to him, they often border on wildly inappropriate. He asked Daichi once to "crush his head between his thighs" and was silenced with nothing more than a stare.

So he can't even begin to guess at why he wants to crawl under the table and never emerge from under it again at the notion of telling Akaashi that he looks nice. In the grand scheme of things, it's a very, very tame compliment. Plus, they literally live together. Akaashi has watched him put his shoes on the wrong feet like, more than five times. You'd think embarrassment would sort of fly out of the window after a while.

Akaashi takes the glasses out from his bag and examines them for a moment. "Well, I'm glad you think so. I'm already your roommate who spends most of his time studying. I don't want to be your roommate who looks like a librarian, too."

"Nah, no way." Bokuto waves him off cheerfully. "You're Akaashi, my super-cool, super-smart, and super-funny roommate."

The other's lips draw up the tiniest bit, betraying the humor that is otherwise hidden in his tone. "Glad to hear it. Now, what do you want help with today?"

They work for a while with easy back-and-forth chatter. It sometimes takes Bokuto a few tries to get the harder problems right, but when he does, he's often rewarded with a small high-five from Akaashi. Whenever that happens, he begins the following problem with renewed vigor.

Once or twice, though, he stumbles upon a problem that may as well be written entirely in Latin. These ones always kill his mood. In fact, they take his mood and stomp on it for a few minutes before leaving and coming back with a metal bat for Round Two. When it gets to the point where Bokuto's excitement is nothing but a bloodied pulp, Akaashi often steps in with a gentle, guiding hand and quiet words of encouragement.

It helps immensely to have Akaashi there. Before, when he would get stuck in ruts, he would try at the problem for a few moments before getting up and stomping to the kitchen to get water. He'd then sit down and glare at the problem for a few moments before leaving it blank and moving to the next one.

When Akaashi is around, he always manages to hunt down the solution. Sometimes it takes a lot of work and more than a few shreds of eraser littering their table, but the rush he gets when Akaashi nods approvingly and taps at the next problem makes it undoubtedly worth it.

They're a little less than an hour into their lesson when Bokuto shifts in his seat and feels the money he has stuffed in his back pocket.

"Yo, Akaashi!" He whisper-yells. "Want coffee? I've gotta pay you back a little bit somehow."

Akaashi hums lowly for a moment, pressing the end of his pencil to his chin. "Yeah, thanks. Would you mind grabbing me a vanilla latte?"

Bokuto answers with a sharp salute and shoots up from the table, the sudden jolt sending it scooting forward a millimeter. He sends an apologetic grin down at Akaashi. "Roger that, captain! One vanilla latte coming right up!"

Yamaguchi is at the register and breaks into a wide smile at the sight of Bokuto approaching. He skitters his way up to the counter and orders a vanilla latte and a mint frozen blended drink, cracking a grin at the freckled boy behind the register. When he places the order and hands Yamaguchi the money for the drinks, the younger promises to put extra whipped cream on Bokuto's drink.

On his way back from the counter, his eyes flick to the left, where he spies a certain tall, wiry blonde sitting at a table facing the register. Bokuto chooses to not approach Tsukishima - he's currently glaring at a book in his hand as if it just ran over the family pet.

He returns to their table, a drink in each hand. Akaashi's eyes, previously trained on the textbook before him, flit up to Bokuto. In an instant, his gaze lights up. His angular eyebrows tilt up and his lips scrunch the smallest inch - it's almost imperceptible considering how tiny the cues of his facial expressions are, but over the course of their rooming together, Bokuto's been trained to spot them without a hitch.

 _He must really like vanilla lattes_ , Bokuto thinks, and laughs to himself.

"Thank you, Bokuto-san," Akaashi murmurs, taking the coffee from his hand with nimble fingers. A miniature grin works its way across his lips and it's gone in a flash. "That's a million coffees minus one."

\-----

A few days later, Bokuto finds himself unable to sleep. He's been staring at the ceiling for like, nine hours already - he checks the clock on his phone and groans when it tells him that he's been in bed for twenty minutes - and no dice.

Akaashi sits at the desk, so still that if not for the rustling of pages, Bokuto would think he's sleeping propped up in his chair. The lamp is a dimmed, drowsy shade of yellow; Akaashi always makes sure to turn it down when Bokuto goes to sleep so as not to disturb him.

It's funny, really, how they've fallen into such a comfortable routine. They take turns grocery shopping and running out for various supplies. Bokuto is careful to not leave random bits of clothing laying around anymore, and writes little pick-me-up notes for Akaashi to find in the morning (he's never sure where they go, but they're always gone the next day). Three days a week, they go to coffee - always at Fukurodani, because Bokuto refuses to support competition - and study calculus until Bokuto's head swims.

Bokuto's grades have begun to creep up - his overall percentage in math has gone up seven percent in a month and he's even doing better in his language class - and he's beginning to suspect that he's been studying more in general. He blames it on Akaashi's studious tendencies rubbing off on him.

He tries to scrunch his eyes shut for a few minutes, pressing the pillow over his face, before he gives up with a labored sigh. At the same time, Akaashi shuts his book with a satisfied smile and tucks his papers away neatly into a blue binder. The raven's face pulls into a long yawn and he stretches in the chair, shivering ever-so-slightly at the feeling of his arms reaching high into the air.

Akaashi turns off the lamp and clambers over to his bed, moving the covers aside to slide in. Bokuto's mouth moves before his brain does.

"Akaashi, are you going to bed?"

He's going to hit himself with a hammer. Akaashi had just turned off the lights and got under the covers; he would literally not be doing anything other than going to bed. In the dark, he can barely make out the shadowy figure of his roommate starting at the sound of his voice.

Akaashi yawns again, the sound filtering quietly through the drowsy night air of the dorm. "Yeah, I finished working a little early. I'm surprised you're awake."

"I couldn't sleep. Sorry to bug you, 'Kaashi." Bokuto runs a hand over his face, dragging the corners of his lips down.

"Not at all. Was I keeping you up with the lamp?"

"Nope." Bokuto pops the "p" with a small laugh. "I've just got too much energy. Think I'll be murdered if I go for a run?"

Akaashi hums. "I bet. Want to talk to me for a few minutes instead?"

This sounds much more attractive than being slain by an axe murderer whilst going for a brisk jog, so the battle between his alternatives is not a long one.

"Yeah. That sounds nice to me."

The sound of Akaashi's deep, slow inhale is enough to perk Bokuto up a little. A fly buzzes near his ear and he waves his hand to swat it away, though it never makes contact with his assailant. Neither of them say anything for a moment, and Bokuto realizes that his roommate is likely fall asleep if he doesn't speak up soon.

"Tell me a secret?"

"A secret?" Akaashi's voice is slightly above an incredulous whisper.

"Yeah, a secret. I can start, if you like."

Akaashi obliges him, and Bokuto takes a moment to rack his brain for anything that Akaashi isn't already aware of. He settles on something and grins, turning onto his stomach and propping himself up with an elbow.

"I'm really, really ticklish," he confides.

It's quiet for a moment, and now he's really beginning to wonder if Akaashi has fallen asleep.

Then, a breathy laugh. "Are you really? That's a pretty serious secret indeed."

"It absolutely is. I'm glad you're treating it with the respect it deserves." Bokuto nods to himself, and his hair flops into his eyes. He pushes it away with a huff. "Your turn."

When Akaashi speaks, voice crackles with easy mirth. "I once brought my mom's 'adult book' to show and tell when I was eight."

Bokuto's head whips to face him in disbelief; he can only barely see his roommate, even with the time his eyes have had to adjust to the light. A smile begins to crack at the corners of his mouth and a moment later he's snickering. A few moments after that, and he's practically howling with raucous laughter.

"N-no way," he gasps between hiccupping laughs. "Did you just think it looked cool and grabbed it off the shelf or-?"

Akaashi is midway through a sleep deprivation-induced giggle fit of his own. "I liked the author's name because it rhymed. My mom was so pissed when the school called; I think she was mortified."

"I would be, if I was her!" Bokuto wipes at the tears starting to prick at his eyes and takes a deep breath to steady his voice. "That would take years off of my life."

After a minute or two, they've brought themselves down from the laughter high, falling easily into a rhythm of swapping secrets of varying degrees. Bokuto confesses that he's tried to write a rap before (it was wildly unsuccessful, even by his standards) and in turn, the raven tells him that he's accidentally given his cousin the same gift two years in a row without the guy even noticing. When Bokuto tells him that his greatest pre-college pride was his skill in volleyball, Akaashi confides that he also felt happiest while on the court in high school.

Eventually, their supplies of trivial anecdotes and ridiculous facts run thin. Their conversation takes on a heavier air, and Bokuto finds himself surprised by how much spills from his mouth time and time again. There's just something about Akaashi that breaks down the walls he's thrown up around his bigger insecurities and more troubling thoughts. Actually, Akaashi doesn't break them down - rather, he coaxes the drawbridges down with soft words and small, gentle noises that betray concern.

Bokuto tells Akaashi about his tendency to be too loud. He tells him that he worries that people feel pressured to be around him because he indirectly guilt trips them into doing so. He admits that he feels so stupid sometimes that it clogs his throat up because he _hates_ it, hates feeling dumb, and feels something press at his Adam's apple as he does so. It begins as a slow trickle and as the waves of uncertainty wash over him, the dam breaks.

He empties his stomach of his darkest fears, all the times he's been the one left behind, how he hates being in complete quiet because it leaves him alone with too many thoughts, how he's so terribly afraid of being alone like he was in the darker pockets of his life. Maybe it's because he's tired - so tired, suddenly - or maybe he's just been pushing these thoughts to the corners of his mind for so long that they've finally burst out, but he feels the beginnings of tears begin to prick at the corners of his eyes again. They're bitter ones now, chock-full of unjust self-criticism and dull fear.

Another wave of emotion crashes over him and he feels his eyes sting. He works frantically to gulp down the rock that has settled in his throat, but his efforts prove to be of no avail.

Bokuto's voice hitches, and he hears Akaashi draw in a small, sharp breath in the dark. He's about to apologize - tell him that he's sorry, that he got carried away, probably - when he hears the soft padding of socked feet on the floor. A weight settles on the edge of his bed near his midsection, and a heartbeat thunders in his ears before a slender, strong pair of arms are hoisting his upper half off the bed and bringing him into a warm body.

The barely-there light of the moon shines softly through the window between their beds, and Akaashi's hair looks like it's made of starlight. Bokuto shifts slightly, pulling Akaashi closer into himself, head tucked into the nook between the raven's stomach and his arm. He feels the unshed tears sift into the fabric of the t-shirt his face is pressed into and a shuddering intake of breath rocks through him.

"Thank you," Bokuto mumbles.

Akaashi says nothing, but pulls him in a fraction closer. They stay there for minutes, hours, years, before Bokuto pulls back and exhales slowly. He sits up, resting his weight on his palms.

He feels better now, better than he has in a long time. It's as though a meteor has been lifted from his back; he's not bearing the weight of the world alone anymore. There are solar systems coursing through his mind, cosmic bodies hurtling by at millions of miles an hour, but now there is someone to gaze at them with him.

He thinks about this for a moment. _Akaashi probably has problems of his own._

"Talk to me," he says after a while, his own voice the gentlest he's ever heard it.

All is silent for a few moments more. Maybe he's overstepped. Just because he poured out his greatest worries to his friend doesn't mean that the latter is obligated to do the same. But he wants to help Akaashi, give him the solace that he was just offered, even if for a fleeting moment. Akaashi is bearing his world, and Bokuto wants to bear Akaashi's, too.

He watches as the dark form mere inches away heaves a heavy sigh.

"My mom is sick, and there's nothing they can do."

"Oh." All the emotions come flooding back. "Oh god, Akaashi. I'm so sorry."

Akaashi's voice is painfully quiet, and in this moment, Bokuto feels a rush of heartbreaking affection for his friend like he's never felt before. He moves without hesitation, surging forward to envelop the slender form in an embrace. He feels the shakes that rack Akaashi's body with every unsteady breath as the raven does his best to keep himself together.

"I'm here. Tell me whatever you need to, however you need to."

This is, as it seems, the moment that Akaashi breaks. A low sob slips through his lips as the first burning tears begin to fall from his eyes, scorching the surface of Bokuto's shirt and the exposed bit of his collar area. Akaashi - the calm, collected, always-in-control Akaashi - has finally bared his ugliest to someone else, and Bokuto is trapped between relief and soul-crushing sadness.

Through tears and gulps of breath, Akaashi tells Bokuto everything. Bokuto learns that his father died while he was in high school, a little after his sixteenth birthday. Akaashi has no siblings and very little extended family that he's close to. He loves his mom like nobody else in the entire world; she's his rock, his greatest supporter, and the strongest person he has ever known.

Akaashi Fumiyo is expected to die of breast cancer within the next year, and with her she will take the only true, unwavering love Akaashi knows. He will then be utterly alone.

Bokuto takes a few minutes for this all to sink in. He holds Akaashi as tight as he possibly can, using deep breaths to lull Akaashi into a quiet cycle of "breathe in, breathe out." He feels his heart break with every crack of Akaashi's voice and is reminded each time of how immeasurably painful this must be for another person to endure. A tiny battle wages in his mind, and a moment later he brings a hand up to the back of Akaashi's head, fingers weaving between the inky, moonlight-lit tufts of hair.

"Thank you, Bokuto-san," Akaashi whispers into the space between his shoulder and neck. His voice has steadied for the most part and his breaths are regular in their intervals. "I think I needed that much more than I knew."

Bokuto doesn't move. He wants this moment of comfort, solace in the eye of a hurricane, to last forever. He wants to exist only as a thudding heart beating in time with the one in the chest pressed against his own.

"Of course, 'Kaashi. I've got your back, always."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey guys! thanks a million for your patience and support. in honor of the love of my life's birthday yesterday, i spent like 3 hours on this to make up for all the time i missed with tests this past week. hope you enjoyed!


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which bokuto has an epiphany and watches the stars.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i wrote the last scene to "in the aeroplane over the sea" by neutral milk hotel (over and over and over and over again) so if you wanna get the vibes i was going for there i suggest checking that song out :)

After that night, it felt as if there was a tiny gear-shift in Bokuto's brain.

Sleep had come easier than he had expected, and he assumed that it was the same for Akaashi as well. Not that it was intentional; actually, they had just been so worn out from crying that they just dropped off to sleep a few minutes after drying their eyes. Akaashi had been the first to go - his red-rimmed eyes had fallen closed shortly after he tried to stifle a yawn with the palm of his hand and slid under the covers of his bed. 

Soon after, Bokuto found himself turned on his side, gazing sleepily at Akaashi's form under his sheets, watching the rhythmic rising and falling of his chest. He isn't sure when he drifted off, but he does know that it was to the sound of the raven's quiet intakes of breath.

The next morning is, well, awkward. Bokuto had essentially bared the darkest bits of his brain to his roommate in the middle of the night and in turn, Akaashi had done the same, which was not exactly Chill Bro Activity. 

_Well_ , he muses upon peeling his eyes open and immediately having his retinas singed by the rays of sunlight assaulting his eyeballs, _at least we've definitely crossed into "good friends" territory by now_.

He uses this to squash down the remaining discomfort that lingers in the back of his mind. Not that Bokuto is exactly known for having his thoughts and emotions on lockdown, but it isn't as if he exactly makes a habit of crying into his friends' arms because of how ridiculously insecure he is. Plus, he still wants Akaashi to think he's cool, and weeping directly onto his shirt was probably not the most surefire way to get that to happen.

So when he pads into the bathroom and shoves his toothbrush into his mouth, he brushes with a bit more ferocity than would normally be deemed appropriate. A rap sounds on the door frame beside him and he turns on instinct. He's greeted by familiar gunmetal eyes and a head of tousled black hair, and suddenly his heart is way down in his stomach and doing jumping jacks. 

"How did you sleep, Bokuto-san?"

Before he knows it, he's practically coughing up the toothpaste that he inhaled. Akaashi's eyes widen and he steps forward, but instead of just accepting his help or bending over and washing his mouth out with water, every nerve in Bokuto's body fires into overdrive. 

He wheels backward immediately, arms flailing. He feels his eyes shoot open and briefly wonders if he's about to hit the tile and bleed out in a dormitory bathroom (because holy shit, lame much) before a hand is grabbing at his shoulder. Bokuto makes a last-ditch effort to propel himself forward and in the process loses the last of his footing, leaving him to crash to the tiled floor.

Well, not just him. 

Bokuto blinks open eyes that he didn't even realized he's squeezed shut and jolts again when they meet Akaashi's imploring gaze. "Are you okay?"

Which like, yeah, he's fine, except that his pulse is literally thundering in his ears so loud that it drowns out everything else and Akaashi's practically hovering directly over him, propped up only by his hands. He's twelve seconds from being the first case of human combustion and he doesn't even know why, damn it. 

"Couldn't be better!" Bokuto chirps, and it sounds painfully forced even to him. He barely manages to keep from cringing. 

He lifts his head up experimentally - his mom would kill him if he managed to give himself a concussion while brushing his teeth - before realizing just how close it puts him to Akaashi's dark lashes and pink lips and lets his head drop back down with a resounding thud. The noise is all too loud in their otherwise quiet dorm. 

All the while, Akaashi has kept the same unreadable gaze plastered on his face. It's beginning to stress Bokuto out, given how ridiculously expressive he is by comparison. His eyes bore into the surface of Bokuto's face, practically drilling holes in his forehead. 

Finally, he pushes off of the ground and stands up, offering a hand to Bokuto. In that moment, overcome by embarrassment and confusion as to why his stomach has suddenly turned to mush, Bokuto recoils a fraction of a centimeter. 

The effect is almost immediate; the apples of his cheeks burn with shame at his inadvertent rudeness, and Akaashi's gaze flattens almost imperceptibly, lips drawing tight. In an attempt to right his mistake, Bokuto hastily takes his hand and hauls himself up. 

They stand there for another moment before Akaashi sweeps out of the bathroom, moving swiftly to his bed and pulling on a pair of shoes. He plucks a couple of textbooks from the desk (with a surprising amount of ease - Bokuto has tried to lift his full stack of books and knows that it's not by any means an easy task), placing them in his backpack.

Bokuto doesn't even realize that he's just been standing there watching, arms glued to his sides, until Akaashi murmurs something about going to study and tugs on a jacket. 

"Akaashi-" he begins, and for once, falters. 

"Be back in a bit," he says, and it's more curt than he's been in a long time, like he was when Bokuto first met him, and he's out of the door. 

Wonderful. He's been up for all of ten minutes and has already managed to ruin the mood. What's worse is that he can't even be annoyed at Akaashi like he can with most people, because Akaashi is not a petty person and therefore probably doesn't whisk out of a room like that unless he has a very good reason to.

Well, to be fair, it's a bit rude to jump sky-high and then bring your roommate crashing to the bathroom floor with you when he tries to say hello. Furthermore, it's especially rude to reject his help standing up afterward, even if it wasn't a conscious decision. _I didn't even get to apologize_ , he realizes, and drags a hand down his face morosely. _I am such an idiot_. 

While he's standing in the bathroom doorway and watching Akaashi's figure filter through the blinds as he makes his way to the stairs, something in Bokuto finally clicks. There's definitely something up with him, but he doesn't know what it is.

It's there, though; it's present in the way that the tips of his ears are set alight when Akaashi laughs at something he says or spares him a small smile as they set off for the cafe to study. It's there when the moonlight turns his friend's eyes into pools of molten silver and rays of the setting sun set the edges of his form aglow.

It's even there when Akaashi's not doing anything at all - Bokuto's heart will do an odd little pitter-patter thing when he looks over and the raven has his glasses on, eyes trained hard on the pages of a textbook. His chest tightens when he hears a pretty tune that Akaashi has hummed offhandedly or when he smells a candle that reminds him vaguely of the raven's cologne. 

It's there, that something that he can't explain, the feeling that he's all but forgotten, and if he doesn't tell someone about it, it'll probably eat him alive. He fishes his phone from his pocket and quickly scrolls through his recent messages. 

(9:27) guys

(9:27) super secret emergency meeting needed STAT

(9:27) minus oikawa bc he's mega busy i think

He flops onto the couch and waits there sullenly for his phone to chime. With every passing moment, he's pretty sure that The Something takes a little chomp out of his spirit self. His left hand has begun to go numb and he's almost ready to live as an amputee when his phone buzzes and he bolts upright.

(9:33) Daichi: _I'm free in an hour. What's up?_

(9:34) i'm dying

(9:37) Kuroo: _damn. sucks_

(9:37) i hate you i hate you i hate you i

(9:38) Kuroo: _just kidding bo yk i love u_

(9:38) Daichi: _How is it that you're so smart and yet you text like you suffer from dyslexia?_

(9:40) it's part of his charm, he says

(9:41) Kuroo: _right on, my man_

(9:41) Kuroo: _be at mine at 12:30_

(9:42) Kuroo: _n daichi, bring suga_

\-----

Bokuto half-walks, half-crawls his way to Kuroo's dorm. When he halfheartedly pounds on the front door with a fist, Kenma's form appears in the doorway in a flash. 

"Hey, Bokuto." His hair is tied back in a ponytail, a few wisps of brown and blonde having slipped out to frame his face. Catlike eyes peer up at him from where they're usually partially hidden. "You look like you need an energy drink."

He nods, and runs a hand through his flat locks of black and gray. He'd spent like, five whole minutes this morning trying to get it as spiky as he likes it, but it seems that even his hair doesn't want to cooperate today. Kenma scoots to the side and he enters with a sigh, kicking off his shoes. 

"What's up, Bo?" Kuroo calls from the ground by the coffee table in front of the television. Opposite him sit Daichi and Suga on the couch. His eyes, which twinkle jovially, dull a little bit when his gaze lands on Bokuto's face. Bokuto is now sulking like his life depends on it. "Jeez, you haven't looked this down in ages. What, did Akaashi dump you?"

For no reason at all, this is the morning's final arrow in Bokuto's back. His eyebrows furrow as his bottom lip finds its way between his teeth in an effort to pinch back the wave of frustration. He's still exhausted from last night, physically and emotionally, and on top of that he feels like the biggest jerkwad to ever walk the planet earth.

Kuroo seems taken aback by the even more extreme change in demeanor, though he quickly jumps to his feet and marches over to Bokuto. "Hey, man, I wasn't trying to be mean - it was just a joke, I promise. C'mere." 

He wraps an arm around Bokuto and leads him to a spot on the floor next to where he had just been sitting. His head snaps toward Kenma and jerks in Bokuto's direction. Kenma shoots him a thumbs-up and opens their tiny fridge, fishing through it until his hand emerges with a canned energy drink.

Kenma plops down on the other side of Bokuto and presses the cold can into his hand. Bokuto's head perks up a little bit and he offers a grateful smile, cracking open the tab and waiting for the fizz to die down before he takes a long sip. 

"Thanks," he croaks, and the smile feels much more genuine than it did earlier. "Sorry to worry you guys - I'm not even really that upset - last night was just super bizarre and I think I pissed Akaashi off today and I get all weird when he's around now and something's probably wrong with me-"

"Whoa, whoa," Daichi cuts in. "Start at the beginning and tell us everything you need to."

Suga offers an encouraging smile, and Bokuto takes another sip of the energy drink. Kuroo's hand pats at his shoulder. 

So he tells them everything. 

Bokuto tells them about their talk last night and how Akaashi brought him out of his moment of too-heightened emotion, tells them about their encounter this morning and his resulting demeanor. Most of all, he tells them about The Something, the thing that he can't quite pinpoint but always nags at his head. 

He finds himself rambling again, going off on tangents here and there throughout the story about how Akaashi smells a little bit like fabric softener and coconut or how pretty he looks under the stars or how funny he can be in the quiet, cynical ways that the funniest people often are. He tells them about how his face gets all hot around Akaashi and his heart does weird tricks and his chest tightens with every breath. He tells them things that they already know, just for the sake of telling them, and he doesn't know why, only that talking about Akaashi makes him feel good.

As he talks and talks, finishing his energy drink and setting it on the table only to continue talking, the mouths of the people around him slowly curve upwards into knowing smiles. Even Kenma's mouth slips into a small grin. 

When he's finished - thoroughly exhausted all of the things he could begin to say and even more after those - he leans back on his hands. 

"So what do you think?" Bokuto asks, eyebrows furrowing. "Am I like, allergic to him or something?"

Next to him, Kenma snickers quietly. 

Bokuto huffs. "Don't laugh! I might need a roommate switch if it turns out that I get sick around him, and that would be such a pain!"

Now the other three are laughing, too. Bokuto tries to shoot them each a glare, but ultimately falters when he sees the way that Daichi's shoulders shake with each stuttering intake of breath. 

"Bo, you're not _allergic_ to him," Kuroo cackles. "You like him."

Bokuto doesn't even attempt to process this statement. "I what?"

It's kind of ridiculous that Bokuto sputters at this, all things considered. Of course he knew this on some level, deep, deep down - that his feelings for Akaashi have long since left the bounds of what roommates normally feel for each other - but not once has he consciously considered it. 

"You like him."

"I _what_?"

Suga gets up from his perch on the couch and pads over to sit next to him on the floor. Kuroo shuffles to the side momentarily as Suga kneels down, smile unusually soft considering his often-chaotic demeanor. 

A warm hand finds its way on top of Bokuto's head and ruffles his hair slightly. "You've got feelings, man. I have to say, if I had to choose a person for you to live with and fall for, I couldn't do much better than Akaashi."

Bokuto finally manages to pry his wide eyes off of the carpet and blink up at his friend. His eyes meet Suga's warm chocolate-browns, full of patience and kindness. Suddenly, the hint of a smile tips his lips upward, slowly working its way up to a full-face grin. A rush of warmth races through his veins, sending his nerves alight and turning his head cotton-fuzzy.

It's been so long, such a long time since he's felt this way about someone, that he's almost forgotten how it feels. He's not in love, at least he doesn't think he is, because love feels different than this, but he's deeply in like. A swirling sensation pools in his chest under his rapidly beating heart, and he shoots an excited glance at Kuroo. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Daichi's lips quirking upward in amusement. 

"I like Akaashi!" He beams. 

Kuroo grins back wildly. "I know!"

A small hand waves in front of his face, snapping him out of the moment for a split second, but it's only Kenma's, small-ish and cream-colored. He turns to the smaller form next to him and is greeted with a smiling - really smiling - Kenma, left hand outstretched in an awaiting fistbump. He cheers a little bit and happily meets it with a fistbump of his own. 

"For what it's worth," Daichi says above the whoops of Bokuto and Kuroo, who now are competing to see who can cheer louder, "I'd say that you have a pretty good chance here."

Bokuto whips around to face him, and he feels his heart race at the thought of Akaashi getting the same coils of excitement in his stomach at the thought of him. "Really? You think so?"

Kuroo nods wisely, index finger held in the air as if to deliver a proverb. He makes a gesture as if to silence the room and then gets to his feet, drawing himself to his full height. Hazel eyes survey the room and he inhales deeply. 

"He probably thinks you're smokin'."

On either side of Bokuto, Suga and Kenma groan in unison. Daichi claps a hand over his eyes, making a shooing motion with his hand.

\-----

Hours later, after two feel-good movies and even more "you can do it" speeches from his friends (having four former team captains, a pragmatist who doubles as the world's number one energy drink consumer, and a literal angel brought down to Earth in one's friend group means an odd assortment of pep talks), Bokuto waves a goodbye to his friends and steps out of Kuroo's dorm into the last rays of light before the sunset begins.

He makes his way to his dorm quickly, encouraged from the hours of good feeling; he's going to properly apologize to Akaashi and make sure they're on good terms, and then maybe he'll make them both hot chocolates and ask if Akaashi wants to go for a walk. He's gonna romance the living hell out of his crush - his crush! - even if it kills him.

Bokuto reaches his dorm building much quicker than usual and dashes up the stairs. He takes a deep breath, puffing his chest out and tilting his chin up to encourage confidence, before unlocking the door and stepping inside. 

Step One: Gently say hello and gauge how Akaashi is doing. 

"Akaashi!" His voice practically ricochets around the room with its intensity. Akaashi jolts from where he sits at the desk, eyes flickering over to where Bokuto stands.

Alright, so it seems that he's botched Step One. Might as well chuck the rest of the list out of the window; he was never great with mental checklists anyway. He thinks better in the moment. 

"How was your crush?" Bokuto grins, and then immediately wishes he was a brick because bricks don't talk and maybe he shouldn't have been granted the gift of speech after all. "Day, I meant day! How was your day?"

Akaashi looks at him, gaze level. 

"It was fine," he says coolly, "and yours?"

Bokuto's pretty solid at reading people, sure. For him, Kuroo is essentially a walking podcast and Oikawa is a tabloid magazine incarnate. He's not sure what Daichi is - maybe a men's health periodical? Regardless, he can generally get a sense for how other people are feeling. The one exception being Akaashi; he's seemingly perfected the art of keeping his emotions in his head rather than on his face or molded into the shape of his words most of the time. 

As opposed to how the raven acts around most people, calm and collected, it seems as though Bokuto has managed to break him out of his shell more and more, and hence, Bokuto has learned to pick up on his small quirks that tip him off to whatever thoughts lie beneath. For better or for worse, Bokuto can get a perfectly good reading on Akaashi right now. He only ever really goes all "unreadable" on him when something's bugging him, and given whatever it was that happened this morning, it's pretty justified. 

Conclusion: Akaashi is still pissed off. (As he has all the right to be.)

"Fine," Bokuto blurts out, because he just wants to apologize already, damn it.

Akaashi nods at this, then moves to turn back to what he had been reading. A flash of panic races through Bokuto's system and he does his best to get the attention back on him. It works, but only because he made this weird "uhh" sound that was more of a verbal grimace than anything else. 

A pair of dark eyebrows raise as Akaashi's steely blue-green eyes lock onto his again, and he takes a moment to steady his heart rate before proceeding. 

Bokuto balls a hand into a fist behind his back, tensing at the awkwardness that has settled over everything in their dorm. His eyes trail down to his shoes. "I want to apologize for, you know, earlier," he begins. "I was a total asshole without realizing and it was completely unintentional, I swear! I just got all jumpy for no reason, probably just was caught off guard by you looming over by the doorway- not looming! You don't loom!"

"I don't... loom?" 

He's about to continue, because no, of _course_ Akaashi doesn't "loom," until he hears the faint sound of muffled laughter and swings his head up. The faintest of smiles plays across pink lips from where Akaashi sits at the desk, which is so unfair considering how much Bokuto is stressing out right now. 

"Uh, no, you don't loom," Bokuto continues, confused. "More like hover - oh god, that's even worse! Just ignore me!"

Akaashi is laughing louder now, bent over ever-so-slightly at the waist, head tipping back as giggles wrack his body. 

"Hey, don't laugh! Do you know how long I've been trying to work out how to apologize best, Akaashi? Huh, do you?" Bokuto scolds him, though he's forcing down a grin of his own. 

The raven waves a hand at him, the other occupied with clutching at his side while he shakes with mirth. "No, please continue to tell me," he says through peals of laughter. 

Bokuto huffs and crosses his arms. "I don't think I will."

Akaashi takes another minute or so to collect himself. During this time, Bokuto keeps attempting to fix his face into a disapproving frown, but that sort of expression very rarely works on his face, so he gives up. It also doesn't hurt that Akaashi's laugh sounds like a bell and the apples of his cheeks flush when he smiles widely enough. 

"So it was really just me scaring you on accident?" Akaashi asks when he's sitting back in his chair, breaths steady and even. "You weren't acting that way because of last night?"

Bokuto cranes his neck forward, face screwing into bewilderment. "Why the heck would I do that? That would be such a dick move! Plus, I told you just as much personal stuff."

The raven visibly relaxes, tension that Bokuto hadn't even noticed was there melting off of his shoulders. Encouraged by this, Bokuto elects to continue. 

"Lisen, 'Kaashi, I'm glad that you told me. I trust you a lot, like a lot, and I'm glad that you trust me too. I want you to talk to me when you want to talk about stuff like that. You're my friend, and I care about you a ton, you know?" 

His cheeks warm at the final bit; Akaashi will take it innocently, as all people would, but knowing what lies behind it causes his stomach to twist itself into knots. He feels the familiar surge of butterflies flapping circles around his insides and shoves a nervous smile off of his face. 

The final rays of daylight filter through the blinds, illuminating stripes of hardwood floor in their wake. Bokuto's plants (five, now - Akaashi bought him one at a market, once, and he adopted another one when he saw it wilting in a nursery a while back) sit in a proud line on their windowsill, the greens of the leaves ever-brighter in the fading sun. 

And then Akaashi smiles again, eyes scrunching at the corners, and Bokuto's chest is warmer than it could ever be after laying in the sun for hours. Somehow, he never quite noticed how lush and dark his eyelashes were, or how well the stray swoops of his inky hair framed his face. His skin is so smooth-looking, and probably soft to the touch, and holy fuck, he's in so deep for this man. 

"Thanks, Bokuto-san," Akaashi murmurs, and rests his head lazily on the arm that is propped up along the top of his chair. "It means a lot, really."

The sunlight dapples his hair, painting the loose strands red and surrounding his head with the faintest halo of light. The light rests upon his slender hands, well-trimmed nails shimmering dully, the small mole on the inside of his ring finger a speckle on an otherwise blank canvas. He is probably the closest thing to an angel that Bokuto has ever seen. The moment that this thought crosses his mind, he stuffs it away. 

_What the hell am I doing? Focus._

Their conversation turns idle, taking turns swapping tales of their respective days. Bokuto takes care to omit certain details, planning out each sentence down to the word. He gets so oddly careful with some things, when he decides that they really matter. 

They talk until the sky grows dark and the first stars peek out of the all-encompassing night. At some point, Bokuto moves to turn on a lamp and sits down on his bed near the desk. His posture relaxes until he's practically lounging, too; if one were to peer in at the scene, it would seem as though they never had their hackles raised in the first place. 

Suddenly, Akaashi pries his head off of his arm. Faint red lines trace along his cheek where the seam of his sleeve would be. He blinks once, twice, and then checks the time. "Ah, I forgot - there's going to be a meteor shower in half an hour, give or take, and I wanted to see if I could watch. Want to come with?"

Bokuto's heart skips a beat. "Hell yeah! What about that one really tall hill in the park? That should give us a good view, right?"

"It might be a bit crowded there." Akaashi brings his bottom lip between his teeth. "I actually had a different place in mind. It shouldn't have many people, but it's a fifteen-minute walk or so. Would that be a bit much for you?"

"For me?" Bokuto scoffs playfully, crossing his arms across his chest. "'Kaashi, there are very few things that are 'a bit much for me.' If you think it's a good place to go, then it's a good place to go!"

"Alright. I can grab a couple of blankets - you should probably wear a jacket. It says it'll be cold later." 

"On it!" 

Bokuto rushes to pull a jacket from one of the hangers in his closet, nearly yanking the whole thing from the wooden rod that keeps their clothes aloft. He wiggles his way into it, grabs the hem, and pulls hard enough for his head to pop out. A laugh escapes from his lungs when he touches at his hair, which has inexplicably returned to its usual haphazard angles. 

A few minutes later, and they're standing in front of the door. Bokuto pats at his chest to make sure that he is indeed wearing his jackets and peeks down at his feet just to check that his socks match. When he's sure everything is in order, he looks over to Akaashi and nods solemnly. When the nod is returned, he wrenches the door open and steps out with a dramatic sweeping gesture to beckon the raven out as well. 

The air is surprisingly cool and rushes into his chest as he calls out into the empty night. "Onward, Akaashi!" 

A laugh sounds from behind him and he turns around, encouraged. His eyes land on the pile of blankets that Akaashi is working to keep in his arms and immediately feels his eyes narrow. 

"Oh no, no no. Give me those," Bokuto says, arms outstretched to accept his new burden. When Akaashi simply shakes his head, his lower lip juts out in defiance. "'Kaashi, you have to give me at least half."

"It really isn't an issue," Akaashi insists, but his protests go unheard.

Bokuto raises an eyebrow. "No way. I'm bigger than you are, so it's totally unfair for you to be holding more than I am. _Capisce_?"

"I'm not that much smaller, Bokuto-san. And we're Japanese, not Italian, so no. No _capisce_."

Bokuto holds up his right arm and flexes as if to show off his obviously superior stature. "See this, Akaashi? Pure ramen and spiking. Now give me the blankets."

With a derisive snort, Akaashi hands over the pile of blankets and is rewarded with a beaming smile. Bokuto tucks them over his arm and holds them to his chest, pushing the grin off of his face when it approaches the territory of Why Are You Still Smiling (though he allows the warm feeling in his chest to linger for many moments more).

They talk idly as they make their way to wherever it is that Akaashi wants to go. Their voices balance each other well; Bokuto's booming laugh fills in the lulls of Akaashi's much quieter tone. Bokuto allows himself to be led to an area about seven minutes past the library, up to a small hill that he didn't know was there. Nobody ever really ventured very far behind the library, save for picnics and such, and his friends often opted to eat at the closest location possible.

The march up the hill is short but tiring, and they find themselves puffing out their breaths when they reach the top. After taking a moment to gather himself, Bokuto wheels around to inspect their view. 

"Whoa," he breathes. 

The top of the library sits a fair deal below them - it seems that they'd been walking at a subtle incline for much longer than he had realized. Lights of dormitories and streetlights twinkle merrily in the distance, and the sky is an inky, open expanse of stars above their heads.

Trees line the area where they're standing, a flat patch at the top of the hill covered in tufts of soft grass. A single dogwood tree perches at the center of it all; underneath it, Akaashi has begun to lay down their couple of blankets at what must be one of the best vantage points that their university has to offer.

Akaashi smiles softly at him from below the dogwood. "Come sit, Bokuto-san. It'll start soon."

Bokuto pads over to the blankets, noting how eagerly the soft grass seems to welcome his footsteps. He plops down next to Akaashi, letting out an appreciative whistle.

"How did you find this place?" He asks, cocking his head.

Akaashi shrugs. "I did a lot of exploring last year because I wanted to get to know the campus. I come here when I need to think or be alone, since nobody ever really comes this way."

A lopsided smile tugs at the corners of Bokuto's mouth. He pokes Akaashi in the shoulder. "Well, I know about it now. I feel like I'm part of an important secret."

"It's a very important secret, Bokuto-san. I expect you to guard it with everything you have."

A laugh has just escaped from between Bokuto's lips when he catches sight of a flash in the sky. Then, a second.

"It's starting," Bokuto practically whispers, and lets his shoulders drop as he rests against the tree. He feels Akaashi slump against it beside him.

Dashes of light streak through the darkness of the all-encompassing night. They shimmer brightly, hurtling through the sky with their twinkling joy, racing one another to be the first to the finish line of the horizon. When one disappears from sight, another takes its place, as if there is some celestial baton race occurring above their heads and they are the rare spectators.

"It's been so long since I've gotten to watch a meteor shower," comes a murmur from beside Bokuto, and he turns for a moment.

Akaashi's face is one of pure, wide-eyed wonder. His lips are parted ever so slightly, the corners tipped up, and his shoulders seem to almost shift back a fraction, like he's baring himself for the cosmos. His hair is ruffled by a split-second breeze, shifting in waves across his forehead and lifting into the air. It's so openly innocent and enraptured that Bokuto is almost hesitant to move again lest he break the spell. 

It's as if the raven was made to live in this moment. He fits in so seamlessly: slender like the branches of a cherry blossom tree, hair soft like the wind that swishes through its onyx locks, eyes dark and filled with wonder. Akaashi Keiji is, in this moment, a man who belongs under the meteor showers of the world. 

Bokuto has finally managed to wrench his gaze from his companion and back onto the flashes of starlight when Akaashi's voice rings beside him again, low and reverent.

"Wonderful, isn't it?"

 _Yeah_ , Bokuto thinks. _It's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> woowee it only took us nine full chapters and like 45,000 words to get to the point where this dork realizes he's not wanting to be Best Bros (tm) congrats guys!!1! but for real, thanks for sticking around for so long!


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which bokuto and kuroo flip their shit and someone plans a small surprise.

"Kuroo, I know you're in there. Open up, you big jerk, I've got sweat everywhere!" Bokuto cries, pounding a fist on the front door of his asshole friend's dorm.

He was promised a freak-out session, and a freak-out session he will get. 

The sun beats down, merciless, upon his brow and shoulders, and he regrets wearing a black t-shirt instead of a white one for the ten millionth time that day. The shade did nothing to shield him from the sun's brutal rays on the way to Kuroo's dorm; it simply taunted him with its promises of temporary relief and let the birds chirp their amusement at his sweaty form stomping along the sidewalk.

Finally, after at least four separate calls for salvation and two death threats, Kuroo opens the door, rubbing at his neck.

"Sorry man, I needed to pee so bad-"

"Just let me in," Bokuto half-wails. He wrings his hands dramatically. "I am three seconds from death and you said we could yell together!"

Kuroo barks out a laugh and ushers him in. "Fine, fine, you big baby. We can yell."

Two minutes later, they're sprawled out as best they can on the small couch, a fan blowing cool air back and forth onto their overheated bodies. They're each clutching a glass of cold water - Bokuto is attempting to press it to his cheek without spilling any of its contents and having a very hard time of it.

Kuroo's voice nearly shatters his concentration. "You know, I could have just gotten you a cold towel, right?"

"Where's the challenge in that?" Bokuto counters.

"Spill any water on my couch and I'll show you a challenge," Kuroo scoffs. "So, you need to flip out about Akaashi, huh?"

Bokuto gives up on the water endeavor; it has now splashed on his shirt twice and though it effectively cools his chest, it also looks kind of like he's spent the last twenty minutes drooling on himself, which is decidedly uncool. He raises the glass to his lips and takes a huge gulp of water, nodding fervently. 

"Dude, how can a single person be so hot and so pretty and so cute all at once? I feel like I'm going to explode every time he smiles, I swear!"

Kuroo's upper lip curls. "I feel you, man. Kenma fell asleep on my lap the other day and he looked so much like a sleeping kitten that I thought I was gonna pass out. He would've clawed me half to death if I ever told him that, though."

"Probably," Bokuto agrees.

It's true. When given a compliment pertaining to his petite physical appearance by anyone other than Hinata (and even then, the redhead isn't always out of danger), Kenma is at best awkward and at worst a proponent of incredible fury. Bokuto suspects that it's got something to do with a predisposition towards self-deprecation, but suggesting that to the guy would probably result in one of those freeze-hell-over death glares. 

One time, he had ruffled Kenma's hair and called him a "cute little kitty-cat of a dude" and had promptly received a swift stomp on the foot. Bokuto quickly learned that short people do not appreciate when others point out their shortness (he had a similar experience with Hinata, except the ginger had actually flung himself onto his back). 

They spend at least half an hour ranting. Thank god that Kenma was out accompanying Hinata into the city for the day, or else the scene would be ridiculously hard to explain; Kuroo's frustration seems to grow with every story he tells and Bokuto feels his ears heating up every time he thinks of Akaashi's slender hands.

Finally, Kuroo slumps forward and rests his head in his hands. "Fuck, dude, we need to make something happen or we're both gonna go crazy within the year."

"I give myself about two months before I slip," Bokuto grumbles.

"Okay, game plan time," Kuroo says, clasping his hands together. "How hard can this be?"

Bokuto nods his head with equal vigor. "Right! We're two former team captains. Game plans are our specialty, dude."

As it turns out, game plans pertaining to volleyball and game plans pertaining to charming one's crush are not all that similar. By the end of ten minutes, they've run through seven different scenarios, considered four first date ideas for each of them, and planned to run away to Mexico together (because maybe they are chickens after all). And still, no plans seem to bear fruit.

"I think we're overthinking this a little bit," Bokuto ponders, taking in Kuroo's form sprawled in despair on the floor. "Yeah, we're definitely making this complicated." A muffled groan sounds from the floor and Bokuto nudges the figure with his foot. It jolts and a hand shoots out to grab at his ankle, which he quickly maneuvers away. "Wow, so you are alive!"

Kuroo snorts, but the sound is once again absorbed by the floor. "Barely." 

After another minute or so of moping, Bokuto launches himself forward, propelling forward off of the couch and to his feet. He points dramatically at Kuroo, who is flipped on his back and staring at him as though even watching his movements are tiring him out. 

"Kuroo Tetsurou, you are not a chicken! Well, you look a little like a rooster with your hair sometimes, but that's beside the point!" He ignores Kuroo's noise of protest. "And neither am I! We have to be brave or else we're going to spend the next forever thinking about what idiots we are."

Kuroo rolls over and sits up off of the floor. He then takes a moment to stroke a phantom goatee pensively. "You're right. We're men now, and men gotta be cool and charming and shit when wooing other men."

"Exactly!" Bokuto shouts, and then remembers that they are not the only ones in the building and winces. "Ok, so what do you have going for you? Hey! You're like, super smart."

"I'm hot, too."

"Well, you definitely have a face, and maybe if I were a person who could find you hot without it being weird-"

"Gonna stop you right there, buddy."

"Okay!" Bokuto chirps, and pauses. "Now do me!"

Kuroo presses his lips together in thought for a moment before shooting over a lazy finger gun. "You have a nice ass." He is rewarded with a gleeful high-five.

They decide, over the course of many traded compliments - many of which would be regarded as slightly odd if one wasn't well-aware of the nature of their dynamic - that they are Grade-A Sexy and very complex and are really good at sports. 

At least, Bokuto is pretty sure that they decided upon that; he had gotten a little sidetracked with rattling off all the things that Kenma could potentially find sexy ("like video game quotes, because 'finish him,' am I right?"). In turn, Kuroo had done the same for Akaashi because maybe he finds scheduling sex a week in advance to be ridiculously hot. Bokuto argues this point because Akaashi is a human being, not a word document, and is then reminded that the probability of Kenma specifically having a video game kink is slim to none. 

Once they have all of that settled and all of the kinks worked out (literally), they move to the final stage of their pseudo-pep talk. 

"Listen, dude," Kuroo says. "You've gotta romance him so well that he has no choice but to realize that he's deeply enamored with you."

Bokuto nods solemnly. "Okay, okay, you've got me, I follow."

"Stick your dick so deep in him that it touches his heart, you know?"

"Never mind. I'm never coming to you for advice again."

"You're right," Kuroo admits with a sigh. "Akaashi doesn't seem like the type to fall in love with a guy for his dick, no matter how nice the dick may be."

Bokuto hums to himself as he thinks. Maybe Kuroo is half right - not about the dick-heart touch, but about dialing up the charm to woo Akaashi into considering him as a Viable Boyfriend Prospect. It's feasible, probably, given that they spend two-plus hours per day together ( _or maybe you're reading too deeply and taking advantage of how nice he is_ , his mind offers, and he dutifully pushes his thoughts to the side). With this brightening his spirits, he sets about encouraging Kuroo in more or less the same way.

He's going to get Akaashi to look at him in the way that he looks at Akaashi, even if it takes every last shred of energy he has - and he has lots of energy. 

\-----

Scratch that. Bokuto has zero energy and he might genuinely wilt in half if he has to deal with one more angry customer. 

It has been, in short, an extremely long week. He's had maybe a million and a half tests, two group projects (in which multiple group members flaked at the last second), and worked the closing shift three times. If it wasn't for Akaashi gently shaking him awake, he would have fallen asleep sitting up against the wall two nights in a row. 

Bokuto sighs, pulling at an eyebag with the pad of his finger as he examines his face in the cafe mirror. His hair seems floppier than normal; a few strands have worked their way out of his trademark spikes and onto his brow and he frowns at the sight. 

_I look like a raccoon. A sad raccoon who hasn't dug in a trash can for a while_. 

He pushes the door open morosely and trudges out to the drink station. Hinata isn't here today, so there's nobody to pull him from his funk with "waah!"s and "gwoh!"s of praise. No, he has to deal with the evening rush for another half hour before his shift ends at 6:00 on a Friday (cruel, yes) and he can go home to a hot shower.

(And hopefully Akaashi, too.)

\-----

The sun is still high in the sky when he gets to his dorm, one of the perks of the weeks before summer break. Course loads are as heavy as they'll ever be and stress piles up by the ton as exams approach, but hooray, at least it's still hot as balls at 6:30 in the evening. 

His mood is sour when he drops his bag onto the floor and toes off his shoes in the entryway. He sprints and dives for his bed, allowing his face to sink into the mattress for a moment before coming up for air. Wow, he needed to just flop for a second. 

He indulges in laying like a rock for another few minutes before his phone buzzes in his pocket. Ah, the curses of being immensely popular and well-loved by everyone he comes into contact with. 

(6:42) Akaashi: _You just got off of your shift, right?_

Bokuto blinks at his screen. Just to be sure that his eyes aren't trying to fool him (just to make his week that much worse), he quickly closes the text thread and opens it again. The message is still there, waiting patiently in its gray bubble, and he feels his heart thumping in his chest much more acutely than he should. He sees Akaashi every day, sure, but the idea of him sending Bokuto a text because he just happens to have thought of him decimates Bokuto's brain each time it happens.

He stares at the text for much longer than is appropriate before shaking his head furiously and tapping out a reply. 

(6:46) yeah!! finally dude

Less than a minute later, another text illuminates the screen, and he feels a flush inexplicably creep up his collar. It's so silly to get worked up over a person who he literally shares a dorm with, and yet here he is blushing because Akaashi replied back quickly. 

(6:47) Akaashi: _Would you mind meeting me in Gym 2 at 7:10?_

(6:47) Akaashi: _Before you ask, no, I'm not dealing drugs. And no, I won't tell you why._

Interest sparks as Bokuto reads over the texts, pulling his shoes back on and typing an affirmation out with his free hand. It isn't exactly spelling error-free, but he's too excited at the prospect of doing something with Akaashi to care. Maybe they're showing another film for free in the gym, like they did a few weeks ago. His fingers twitch around his shoelaces at the prospect of watching a movie with Akaashi at his side, wrapped in the cool air of the gym. 

It really is ridiculous that such small, mundane things elicit such big responses in him. But that's the way Bokuto has always been, really. Big expressions, big shoulders, a big voice. He has a big presence, so it only makes sense that his emotions are big too. Hence: coming close to heart palpitations at the thought of Akaashi smiling at him over their ramen bowls at dinner. 

He tears out of the dorm, quickly locking the door shut behind him and descending the stairs two at a time. He has about fifteen minutes to get to Gym 2, which is normally a twenty-minute walk or so from campus. If he runs, though, he can halve that time - he's sure that Akaashi has faith in his stamina (which have improved since they began running together) and took this into account when asking to meet so soon.

Bokuto reaches the doors of Gym 2 at 7:09 and internally congratulates himself on his speed. He takes a moment to run a hand through his hair, teasing each strand up to where it normally resides, and straightens out his shirt. If he's about to try and be cool and woo Akaashi - which he has been slacking at as of late, due to his lack of free time - he has to look the part. 

He pushes the door open carefully, expecting to see a dark room full of students or something of the sort. Instead, he is greeted by the sight of a well-illuminated gym, populated only by seven people and a single net strung across the middle of the floor. His mind takes a second to adjust before Akaashi is standing a few paces away, a small athletic bag in hand.

The door swings shut behind him as he gazes up at the lights high overhead. His gaze drops back down to the man standing before him.

"You mentioned yesterday that your week was shitty," Akaashi says, a small smile playing across unmarred, pale skin, and Bokuto is all too aware of the way his hair brushes across his forehead, the inky black and pale cream in stark contrast. "I figured you could use a break."

Bokuto's brain still has yet to form a comprehensive sentence, so he continues to stare at Akaashi and let the world's dorkiest grin work its way up his face. In the meantime, Kuroo sidles up to him from Akaashi's left and wiggles his eyebrows. 

"He's really good at smooth-talking faculty members, you know that?" He half-whispers, cupping a hand over the side of his mouth as if that will suddenly prevent Akaashi from hearing anything. "He was laying on the charm like I've never seen before and managed to snag us the gym for two full hours, and then he got all of us together! He's so _organized_."

Though he would have thought it impossible, Bokuto's eyes widen even further. "Two full- _Akaashi_ , you're the best! Thank you so, so, so, so, so much! I owe you two million coffees, now!"

Akaashi waves him off, though his eyes flicker away from Bokuto's (increasingly jumpy) form. "It was nothing, don't sweat it. I just talk with the guy who cleans here whenever I pass by, and I think he likes the company." He thrusts the bag in his hands out toward Bokuto. "I let Kuroo in to ransack your room for volleyball-appropriate clothes, so go change." 

Bokuto positively glows. He takes the bag with an appreciative nod (or two, or three), and after a moment's hesitation, dives in for a quick, self-indulgent hug. Akaashi stiffens at the first touch of Bokuto's chest to his, but soon melts into the touch, patting him on the back. Bokuto momentarily regrets his decision, because he's yet again distinctly aware of how nice Akaashi smells, but he rockets that thought to the back of his mind before he pulls back and dashes off to change.

 _Kuroo grabbed my old high school gear_ , he notes with an appreciative grin, yanking the jersey down over his head and hurriedly tugging on matching kneepads. He gives himself a quick once-over, and when satisfied with the result, bounds out of the changing room and into the open gym. 

It feels like it did when he was young and a star of the Tokyo volleyball scene. The lights gleam down at him, bathing him in their unwavering brightness, and the court is before him, full of possibility. There are no crowds here, no girls screaming his name as he goes for a spike, but he's here with his friends - here with Akaashi - and that's as good as any game he's ever played. 

Someone wolf whistles as he steps out, and he mocks a bow. He takes a moment to drink in the sight again; Akaashi, Kuroo, Oikawa, Daichi, and Iwaizumi stand on the court, littered here and there around the net. Along the wall opposite the door sit Suga and Kenma, huddled up beneath a window. 

"Looking sharp, Kou-chan!" Oikawa coos.

Daichi claps his hands together twice, drawing everyone's attention. "Alright, gentlemen. We're going to have a nice, fair game of three on three. Oikawa, Iwaizumi, and Kuroo against Akaashi, Bokuto, and myself. Kenma and Suga will be our lovely referees-"

At this, he sends a wink in the direction of the ash-blond, who winks back and sets off a round of overexaggerated groaning noises. 

"-and we'll be going until one of us passes out or we hit two hours. Whichever comes first, I guess," he finishes, narrowing his eyes at Kuroo, who is still in the throes of fake-vomiting. "I'm gonna get Bokuto to spike directly at your head, you loser."

Kuroo gapes. "He would never! He loves me too much, right Bo?"

"It's very true that I love you, but I don't know. If you're down for the count, it gives us a bit of a head start." Bokuto shrugs noncommittally.

"And you'd probably deserve it for dragging me out to the market for three hours yesterday," Kenma cuts in from where he sits hunched against the wall.

Iwaizumi clears his throat over the sound of Kuroo's squawk. "Do you want us to take the side across from the locker rooms?"

Daichi nods, and Iwaizumi beckons Oikawa and a still-scowling Kuroo over to the far side of the net. When Akaashi approaches where he and Daichi are standing, Bokuto holds out a fist. Akaashi looks at it for a moment, eyebrows raised, and he motions again with extra emphasis. 

"A good-luck fistbump, bro," he encourages. "So we can be extra sure that we'll win."

Akaashi nods around a small laugh and obliges after a moment. Daichi huffs something about not being offered a good-luck fistbump and is offered one soon after. 

Kuroo is the first to serve, flashing a devilish grin at Bokuto, and oh, how he wishes he could read lips right now because he's mouthing something (probably about this being payback for betraying him) across the net. The ball is a flash of blue and yellow as it sails into the air, quickly sent across in a flash to where it is neatly received by an eagerly-awaiting Daichi. 

"Nice!" Bokuto calls, already moving to prepare for Akaashi's set. A pair of steely blue-green eyes flick to him for the smallest fraction of a second before the ball is expertly guided to where he's already leaping. 

It's as if the ball literally cuts through space, sent directly to the palm of his hand, and in that moment, time seems to slow. He sees Akaashi in his peripherals, gaze laser-focused on the point of contact. His eyes then flicker to the opposite side of the court, to a point behind and to the left of Oikawa where it will be exceedingly difficult to reach. Bokuto's hand slices through the air to where it meets its target, slamming into the ball with force he hasn't felt in ages. The ball is sent crashing to the gym floor with a satisfying _crack_ , and Bokuto is already on the ground with a whoop before he knows it. 

He turns excitedly to Akaashi. "Wow! I knew you played volleyball in high school, but you're great! It felt like you sent it to exactly where I needed it to be for my shot!" 

"It was thanks to Daichi's receive, really, it came right to me-" Akaashi begins ( _modest as always_ , Bokuto thinks), but Daichi shakes his head, cutting him off midway.

"No way. My receive was fine, sure, but that has very little to do with how well you set that," Daichi says. "That was all you two."

Oikawa snorts. "Yes, yes, it was very cool, but can you quit the circle jerk and serve, already?"

"I'm going, I'm going." Bokuto rolls his eyes and catches the ball that sails over to him. For good measure, he calls out a "what's the score, Suga?"

"One to zero," Suga crows gleefully. 

Another derisive snort sounds from Oikawa's direction. "We'll just see about that."

Suga sticks out his tongue in contest, and it seems that Oikawa has no better counter, so he allows himself to be dragged back to his spot by a grumbling Iwaizumi. 

Bokuto steels himself for the tiniest moment before he tosses the ball into the air and leaps to meet it. He sends it hurtling to the other side, where it is gracefully scooped up by an awaiting Iwaizumi (he grumbles under his breath at this before moving in to receive the incoming spike). When it's sent their way, streaking through the air like a multicolored comet, Akaashi dashes to meet it, but is a fraction too late. It ricochets off of his arm and flies behind his body.

A victorious catcall is sent their way, which is largely ignored. Instead, the ball is sent back to its temporary owner, picked up by Oikawa, who has now plastered a simpering look all over his annoyingly symmetrical face. _Dammit_ , Bokuto thinks with a huff, _of course we have to get Mr. Freak-Serves right off the bat_. 

Admittedly, Bokuto gets a little too caught up in the moment to think through every little thing that he does when playing volleyball, so Oikawa's choice to needle him for what will likely be the duration of their time in the gym makes sense. Regardless, he does his best to brush off the look sent his way and prepares for the serve that will likely slam somewhere between him and Akaashi. 

It does, of course, and they're slow to get at it. Oikawa turns up his nose smugly at this and Bokuto bites away a frown at the sight, though he feels his brows furrow against his wishes. Akaashi looks over for a second, gaze tight and cool, before turning his focus back to the front. The next serve rockets off of Daichi's arm, but it's salvageable, and the raven deftly maneuvers his way under it to send it to Bokuto. 

His spike is more powerful than it needs to be, really, but it's definitely worth the scowls on the other team's faces when the ball comes crashing down in the middle of them. Bokuto wiggles his eyebrows at Oikawa and allows a hissing laugh to escape from between his lips at the involuntary grimace that is sent to him in return. 

The two teams trade points back and forth, keeping tightly to one another; neither gains a lead of more than two points in any point of the game. Bokuto was a better ace than Iwaizumi was in their high school days by no small amount, but Oikawa's serves and setting skills are nothing short of lethal. Kuroo is the best at blocking, but Daichi's receives save a number of points as well. 

At the end of the first set, the team opposite the net erupts into cheers when Iwaizumi sends the final spike dashing onto the other side. Bokuto definitely grumbles audibly this time, and once again feels the pricks of Akaashi's gaze on the back of his neck before Daichi is clapping a hand onto his shoulder and assuring him that they'll be "winning the next one for sure."

The second set begins with as much chaos as the last one ended, and good-natured tensions yet again begin to bubble up as challenging remarks and tiny smirks are traded across the net. Akaashi is skilled, much more so than Bokuto would have initially thought (though honestly, he's almost always good at everything, so the surprise is largely unwarranted). His sets are delivered neatly right to where Bokuto needs to be, and he's quick to move in for a receive when Daichi is unable to do so. 

Best of all, he keeps his cool, which is much more than Bokuto is able to do. He's growing increasingly irritated with every potential point he misses. Not that he even misses that many, because he doesn't - they just irk him to no end when his cross-court shots are shy of the intended mark. It's a failed straight shot - the kind that he's really proud of, too - a product of nerves and irritation, that proves to be the cutting blow. 

He comes down from his jump as a bundle of frustration and wild hair, crossing his arms petulantly. Akaashi looks over for a moment, seemingly assessing his state, before waving to Suga. 

"Do we get time-outs?" When he receives a nod, he flicks his eyes back to Bokuto for a moment. "Alright then, let's do that." 

Suga mimes blowing a whistle, which is basically just him making a shrill sort of _fwee_ sound into his palms for a moment, and both teams evacuate the court. Akaashi beckons Bokuto over and tells Daichi that he's welcome to chat with Suga for a moment. This offer is not refuted in any sort and the brunet moves to sidle next to his boyfriend for the few moments they have before the "whistle" is blown yet again. 

(Judging by how quickly they've immersed themselves in conversation, a faint blush painting Daichi's cheeks under the fluorescent lights of the gym, it's bound to be quite a substantial time-out.)

Kenma wrinkles his nose at the display of affection and pries himself off of the floor, choosing instead to antagonize Kuroo with a jab of "you slouch a lot more than you used to - getting old must suck."

Bokuto doesn't register this much, though, and nor does he pay much heed to Kuroo's offended retort. Instead, his eyes are trained intently on the hairs of his arms while he scowls down at them from beside Akaashi. 

"You're working yourself up," comes the voice from beside him. 

He frowns. "Am not. Maybe you should try getting Daichi to hit your tosses. My spikes suck."

Akaashi shakes his head from Bokuto's peripheral vision, light bouncing off the short black tresses. "No, Daichi is best at receiving. You're our spiker." When Bokuto offers no reply save for a quiet grumble, he sighs. "Think of it like this. You're missing a few shots, right?"

"No need to rub it in," Bokuto groans, but Akaashi shakes his head. 

"Not my point. I misjudged a couple of tosses, and a few shots have made their way through Daichi's defense too. You're not the only one on this team, Bokuto-san, so don't act like you're the only one responsible for our win or loss." He looks over at Bokuto, a small smile tilting his lips. "You're just the one who hits the ball with the most power. Don't go thinking you're that much better than us, ace." 

Ah, there it is. The magic word that seems to wrench him from his petty funk. It just sounds so nice when it rolls off of Akaashi's tongue that he can't help but grin back. "Ace, huh?"

Akaashi hums in agreement. "Well, you were the ace before, so it stands to reason that you'd be the ace now. Plus, you hit well. Just don't give me too many reasons to start hitting in your place." 

"I'll do nothing of the sort!" Bokuto crows. "You said it: I'm the ace, so I'll show you how an ace should be playing! Just you watch, 'Kaashi. Keep the tosses coming, and I'll prove that I can still be as good of a player as I was in high school!"

With that, he marches back to the court, Akaashi at his side. He could practically swear that he spies a look flashing across the raven's face from the corner of his eye, but he's not sure what it was (or even if it was really there). The others, sensing the end of their timeout, file back into the court. Daichi murmurs a final sweet nothing into Suga's ear while Kuroo attempts to flick Kenma on the forehead on his way back. Iwaizumi practically drags Oikawa back onto the court by his collar, muttering something about him being too slow.

Bokuto approaches the rest of the set with a renewed vigor, and indeed shows Akaashi exactly what aces are made of. The slams of his spikes boom throughout the gymnasium as the ball flies this way and that, ricocheting off of the polished floor. He grins victoriously when they take the second set, coaxing both of his teammates into high-fives, and whoops when they take the third (albeit by a tiny margin as well). 

As the players file off of the court in a poor emulation of post-game courtesies (though these involve many more stuck-out tongues and jabs than the usual ones do), Kenma stuffs his game device into his pocket and stands. His arms reach up high above his head in what looks to be an immensely satisfying stretch, which is then promptly interrupted as Kuroo scoops him up by his armpits and swings him around. 

"Put me down!" Kenma half-yowls. He attempts to wriggle free, but eventually gives up and allows himself to be manhandled. "Why are you so happy, anyway? You lost."

Kuroo sets him down, but doesn't let go of his grasp. He sort of looks like some weird puppeteer, except that Kenma is a very crabby-looking puppet indeed. "I know. You just looked so relaxed right there, like a little kitty basking in the su- _uhh_! Hey! No punching at the arms!"

"I will punch if I so please," Kenma says plainly, and continues his double-fisted assault on Kuroo's forearms where they hold him in place. "Don't call me a 'little kitty.' It makes you sound like a creep."

"He's already a creep!" Oikawa hollers.

"Am not!"

"You're a creep in the way that millipedes are creepy," Kenma needles, and Kuroo throws up his hands. 

He snatches up his bag from its place along the wall and stomps halfway out, trailed by Kenma, before he's bid farewell by a chorus of catcalls and jeers. He promptly wheels around and makes a very obscene gesture at his would-be fans, though Bokuto doesn't have to look closely to take note of the poorly-hidden grin working its way up his face. 

What does take a little more observation, though, is noticing the tiny quirk upwards of Kenma's lips before the half-blond slips out of the gym. 

\-----

The air is warm and syrupy outside of the gym. The keys to the gym clink merrily as Akaashi locks up the gym, its windows dark and net put into place. 

Daichi and Suga had departed second, sporting matching grins when Daichi wrapped an arm around the shorter's shoulders and pulled him close as they exited the gym. Next to go were Oikawa and Iwaizumi, who stayed for a few minutes longer to help clean up the gym's interior. When everything was back where it was before, they took their leave, though not before Oikawa could whisper something about how he and Iwaizumi would be "totally kicking ass, the next time around."

Now, at about 9:00, the stars twinkle high above their heads. The occasional cloud drifts lazily by, at times obscuring the crescent moon's glow for a minute or two. 

Bokuto turns to beam at Akaashi when the raven stuffs the keys into his pocket. It feels like his chest is going to explode with all the good feeling that flutters inside. "That was really, really nice, 'Kaashi! Thanks so much for doing that. I needed it!"

"I told you, it was nothing," Akaashi says humbly, but a smile slips across his mouth despite his words. "You looked like you needed to de-stress, and I remembered how much you like volleyball. I hope it turned out alright - my sets were kind of rusty-"

"It was _great_ , are you kidding? I love volleyball! I always love it, no matter what!" Bokuto interrupts, incredulous. Before he can stop himself, he's opening his mouth again. He can't help it; he's just so _happy_ right now, and Akaashi is so nice to him, and this was everything he could have ever hoped for and more. "I think I like it even better with you!"

Oh boy. There's the word-vomit just pouring out of him again. He'd run a hand down his face at his own inability to shut his mouth, except even he has the prudence to know that it would make him look even weirder. 

But really, his worrying is for nothing, or at least he thinks so, because Akaashi's quiet smile doesn't even flicker. If anything, it almost seems to grow a fraction (but it's probably just the low light making his eyes see things funny).

His voice is even, but not without emotion (it never is, really, it's always just slightly hidden behind a layer of nonchalance). "I like it better with you, too." 

"Really?" Bokuto's ability to keep himself from interjecting is floating somewhere around ten percent right now, and he kicks himself for it mentally. 

"Yes, really," Akaashi says, and Bokuto smiles, because he means it. Akaashi doesn't say things without meaning them. "You're an amazing spiker - an incredible one - and your enthusiasm is contagious. I never played with anyone like you in high school. Your teammates were lucky."

Bokuto's heart does a triple-backflip into a pool of lava. His chest is literally on fire, and the warmth spreads to the apples of his cheeks and the tips of his ears. He's glad it's nighttime, or else he would be having a very difficult time trying to explain to Akaashi why he's the color of a freshly-painted firetruck. 

"Akaashi!" He drags out the last syllable in a sort of happy wail. "You're amazing! Your sets were so precise, it's like they came right to me! And you managed to get my mood up when I was getting all mad in the second set - nobody ever manages to do that until I just happen to do something cool again - and wow! I want you on my team in every match we play ever!"

Akaashi raises an eyebrow. "Every single one?"

"Yep! I call dibs!"

"Do I get a say in this, or are you forcing me to?"

Bokuto snorts. "Of course you get a say! I hope you'll want to, though!"

"Well, if you feel that strongly about it, then I guess I have no choice but to agree," Akaashi sighs, and it takes Bokuto a moment to notice the teasing lilt to his words.

"So rude! You were making fun of me!" He accuses with his best attempt at a frown.

Akaashi shrugs. "Yeah, I was, but think of it like this: I'm only mean to you to your face." 

"That's a bit better, I think," Bokuto grumbles, but he breaks character after a moment, still glowing at the earlier praise. "So you'll be on my team, then?"

The raven hums, as if pondering the offer. He pauses, eyes Bokuto from the side, and then resumes humming. After another moment of this, he tilts his head back ever-so-slightly, exhaling slowly. "I think I will be, yeah. You make a good teammate." 

Bokuto cheers, arms shooting up to pump in the air. "I knew you'd say yes!"

They chatter back and forth for the rest of the walk home, though admittedly, Bokuto is doing a considerable amount more of the chattering while Akaashi handles the listening bit. He rambles on about feints and blocks and quick shots, about the beam move he used to shoot at the crowd during matches, about how he's always wanted to tumble out onto the court (this had been vetoed by his coach when he proposed it), on and on until their dorm building is in sight. All the while, Akaashi asks questions, adds in commentary, shows that he truly is interested in what Bokuto has to say. It makes his heart pick up speed a little bit each time.

Their dorm is pleasantly cool when they step in, kicking off their shoes in turn. Bokuto immediately yanks his sweaty jersey up and over his head, flinging it into his basket of dirty clothes, relishing in the feel of the air on his chest and back. He spends another few moments attempting to run his hands through his hair to cool down, back turned to Akaashi, before he realizes that he's now standing shirtless in front of the guy he likes and turns awkwardly to say something. 

A soft blush has lifted to the raven's cheeks, one that inexplicably deepens a fraction when his eyes flick up to meet Bokuto's golden-browns. Where they had been resting before, Bokuto isn't entirely sure. At this, Bokuto has the decency to redden as well, though his mind does nothing to offer up anything to say. His tongue is just a useless lump in his mouth. 

_Calm down, Koutarou_ , he chides himself, but this does next to nothing for the state of his face. _Seriously, chill out. Kuroo has seen you half-naked about three million times and you never turned red, so why are you freaking out now? You live together, it was going to happen eventually!_

"Do you want to shower first?" Akaashi is the first to break the pause in conversation. 

Bokuto nods furiously, still jarred by the sudden change in tempo. "Yeah, sure! Unless you want one before I hop in?"

The blue-green gaze has since trailed to the floor. "I'm alright. You look ho- a bit sweatier than I am, so you go ahead."

With another too-eager nod, Bokuto snatches up some clean clothes and bids a quick "thank you" to Akaashi before slipping into their tiny bathroom. 

\-----

Later that night, when they're both in their respective beds and the faint sound of Akaashi's even breathing can be heard over the lull of faraway crickets, the image of his roommate's flushed face still refuses to un-tattoo itself from the backs of Bokuto's eyelids. It takes longer than normal for him to finally succumb to the embrace of sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and we are BACK!! good lord i've been so busy with college applications and trying to get ahead on work lately that i've had no time to work on this, but never fear!! i'm not gonna drop the fic. it just takes significantly longer to get things done than before, ya dig? anyways, i hope this chapter was up to standard :)


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which bokuto pines - hard - and faces finals week.

Bokuto blinks the last dregs of sleep from his eyes and sits up in bed, wincing at the glare of the sun, which just so happens to slip between the blinds to shoot him in each eyeball. Nonetheless, it wakes him up rather quickly, and he scrunches his face up and shakes his head. 

As it always seems to do as of late, his gaze then falls to rest upon the still-sleeping form in the small bed across the room from his. It's as if he doesn't really have a say in it himself - rather, his eyes just sort of wander and do as they please, naturally gravitating to the object of his affections. They'll do it during random points of the day, too, not only when Akaashi is asleep; it's proven to be rather close to a miracle that he hasn't yet noticed Bokuto's golden gaze resting upon his slender neck or gracefully slim waist. 

Unless he totally has (which wouldn't be much of a surprise, given that Bokuto has all the slyness of a freight train), in which case he's been noticing Bokuto's sudden fixation with his face and figure and has done nothing about it. _He probably wouldn't even say anything unless I started being extra weird about it_ , Bokuto thinks with a grimace, and at that, wrenches himself entirely from his bed. 

Somehow, in a manner that is entirely unfair, spring finals have crept up once again. It's Saturday, one of the two all-too-short days before the week of brutal tests and projects and late nights surrounded by leaflets and open textbooks, and Bokuto is overwhelmed by a sense of dread. 

Of course, the universe decided that it would be fairest if Bokuto didn't dread only one thing - no, that wasn't enough - he could dread two. 

Firstly, the supposed monster of his calculus final exam. He'd heard rumors of it from upperclassmen who had already braved - or tried to - the beast, some narrowly scraping by with passing grades and others falling victim to its functions entirely. Bokuto has been studying his ass off for it for the past two weeks (with much help from Akaashi), and yet he still feels miles away from prepared. 

Secondly, Akaashi himself (or rather, the soon-to-be lack thereof). With summer holidays come visits home to the family, nights spent back in one's own hometown. Bokuto had been reminded of this fact on Thursday night; they'd been sipping at their tea at the small table, Bokuto marveling at the wonder of their plants which miraculously had not yet died, when Akaashi's voice had broken through the lazy quiet. 

He'd mentioned going back to see family for a couple of weeks at summer's inception, two days after the end of the spring term, and Bokuto's brain immediately caved in on itself. 

"For how long?" Bokuto had whined, already mourning the loss of his roomate's presence. It was rather silly to be doing so, since he was also headed home for a couple of weeks - he just didn't want to be back and sitting around for ages before Akaashi also returned.

Akaashi had taken a sip from his mug, a watery blue one that was chipped around the corners and had the stains of many previous teabags imprinted along the insides. "Two and a half weeks. I want to be taking care of my mom for a while. I think she misses having people around, you know?"

Bokuto's chest had immediately welled up with regret. God, how selfish of a thing to wish Akaashi wouldn't leave - his mom was the only family member he had left. It had utterly slipped his mind, and furthermore, he had been utterly childish about it. Before he's even aware of it, his lips had opened and he'd begun to spill out his emotional guts onto the table. 

"Oh fuck, 'Kaashi, I had completely forgotten!" Bokuto had spit out in a panic. He'd clapped a hand over his eyes to hide the shame (as if that would do literally anything to help him seem more put-together). "I didn't mean to pressure you to come back - take as much time as you need! I swear I won't say anything like that again! I'm so sorry!"

A soft but steady hand had found its way atop his own, gently tugging it away to reveal a softly smiling Akaashi leaning a fraction across the table. "I know. I don't think you're the sort of person to really pressure anyone to do anything." 

Bokuto had opened his mouth to say something - maybe an offer of thanks, maybe another attempted apology - but Akaashi had simply shaken his head before sitting back and continuing. 

"Please don't apologize - I'm perfectly fine, and that sort of thing makes me think that I'm the dead man walking," Akaashi had said, lips quirking at the corners in that dryly humorous way that Bokuto had come to adore. "At least I know that you've not quite wanted to get rid of me yet."

"As if!" Bokuto had scoffed, crossing his arms. "You're the cool roommate who helps me water my plants and teaches me math and watches nature documentaries with me and stuff! You're practically invaluable. Also, you're a good setter."

"All of those things, huh? Be careful with the flattery, Bokuto-san, or I'll begin to think that you want me around for company rather than for my calculus skills," Akaashi had quipped, eyes glimmering with mirth. 

It had turned out that Bokuto would only be back two days before Akaashi, and Kuroo and Kenma would be around at the time, back from their joint trip back to their old haunt as well. So, Bokuto is willing to grudgingly accept the Akaashi-less two and a half weeks that lay ahead. That doesn't mean he'll be happy about it, though. 

Bokuto takes another long look at Akaashi from his place in the bathroom doorway. His hair fans out across the pillow in inky rivulets, eyelashes fluttering gently as his chest swells with a soft intake of breath. A pale golden light dapples his face and pillow, the unfortunate result of shitty blinds, but it makes him seem like a glowing ivory statue. _He looks like an angel_ , Bokuto thinks, and it's sort of ridiculous, but it's true. 

_God, I'm so far gone._

He shuts the bathroom door carefully, so as not to wake his roommate from what looks like a pleasant dream. 

It's moments like those that Bokuto allows himself to settle into, moments where for once, he's quiet, patient, happy to let his usually blazing flames calm into a simmering heat in the presence of a softer glow (though one which lacked nothing in the way of strength). 

When he creeps out of the bathroom and skitters into the kitchen area, Akaashi is still fast asleep, and he chuckles to himself at the thought of his friend being less of an early bird than he likes to imagine himself as. Bokuto brews enough coffee for the two of them, and when the first stirs of a drowsy, mid-morning wake-up float through the air, he pours them both a cup. 

He's gotten pretty good at making lattes ever since he learned that Akaashi likes them (especially the caramel ones, which seems to be out of character for someone as straightforward as he is, but they're as sweet as those soft smiles of his, so Bokuto really can't fault them, in the end). Since they very obviously cannot afford the materials to make such things in their dorm, Akaashi then defaults to milk, sugar, and a dash of cinnamon. Bokuto also likes his coffees sweet - to the point of them being pretty much lethal, according to Kuroo - and so he tosses extra sugar into his mug.

When Akaashi stumbles into the kitchen, yawning and rubbing at an eye, Bokuto is ridiculously quick to spy the collarbone which peeks out under the stretched-out collar of his too-big shirt. He immediately pivots to face the counter again, and chides himself for blushing so furiously at the sight. He's a fully-grown adult male, damn it, not a prepubescent teenage boy who just learned what "p-o-r-n" spells.

As soon as he gets his stupid face back under control, he whirls around, a mug in each hand. "Here you are, sir," he crows, setting Akaashi's mug down on the table in front of him before plopping down in his own seat. "The Extra-Special Deluxe Supreme Coffee With Cinnamon!"

"Ah, The Extra-Special Deluxe Supreme Coffee With Cinnamon. How I've missed you so," Akaashi sighs, bringing the mug closer to him and taking in its scent. He smiles across the table, and it's still clumsy with sleep. Bokuto's heart melts into his stomach. "Thank you."

There's no reason for his ears to be heating up again at this point. Akaashi's shirt has righted itself and all he's doing is smiling, damn it, so Bokuto directs his gaze down into the contents of his own cup to mask his flush. "It's no biggie, really! Making coffee is always fun."

"Regardless, it's very nice of you. I feel so spoiled when I wake up and there's already coffee." Akaashi laughs and takes a sip of his coffee. "I bet you make the best coffee in the whole cafe, huh?"

At this, Bokuto's head shoots up, a broad grin sitting lopsidedly on his face. "You really think so, Akaashi? I sure try, but sometimes my latte art gets a little funny-looking. Hinata's really good with the latte art, but he sometimes dumps a whole bunch of sweetener in stuff on accident, and Suga chews him out for it. Hey, are there any other coffees you'd like that I should try?"

"None come to mind, really," Akaashi hums. "But thank you, Bokuto-san."

"Ah, you and that phrase. It's no problem, seriously!" Bokuto takes a thoughtful sip of his coffee before setting his mug back down. "How come you're so formal, still? I mean, I get why you called me that at first, but we know each other pretty well, or at least I _think_ we do. Forget it, forget it! Sorry!"

He trails off at that, chiding himself mentally. Akaashi probably didn't think they were all that close; sure, they spent a lot of time together, but they lived together, so it's not as if it was all that much by choice so much as coincidence. Bokuto was probably just reading into it. Man, he should have just kept his trap shut and accepted the compliments as they were-

His train of thought is cut short by a short huff of amusement. 

"Of course we know each other well, Bokuto-san, and I hope you don't take that as my being rude. It just sort of stuck after a while." When it becomes apparent that Bokuto will take more than a little persuasion, he redoubles his efforts. "Think of it like a sort of nickname."

Bokuto perks back up, golden eyes flicking up to meet blue-green ones in an instant. "Really, 'Kaashi?"

Akaashi's gaze doesn't falter, and neither does that smile that just melts down every defense Bokuto could ever try to build. "Yeah, really. What, you thought I didn't think we're close? To tell you the truth, you're probably the person I'm closest to here."

That absolutely does the trick. Holy hell, is this the breakthrough to end all breakthroughs. Bokuto's heart is cheering in place, cartwheeling, spinning, whirling at light speeds. It's pounding so hard that it threatens to beat right through his ribcage. It's fluttering, fluttering so fast that it'll probably never slow down again.

"Sort of-" Bokuto tries to pick his words carefully. "Sort of like a best friend?"

Akaashi hums into his mug. "Like a best friend."

Bokuto's mouth wrenches itself into a beaming smile. "No way! You're like, totally my best friend too! Like, Kuroo is my bro for life, but he's got Kenma, and Daichi has Suga, and so on, so I didn't really have a _real_ best friend, but now I do! You're the best best friend I could ever ask for!"

Across the table, his roommate - no, his best friend - takes another appreciative sip. The smells of sweet sugar and coffee grounds with a dash of cinnamon are ripe in the air, soaking into the honeyed rays of sunlight, and Bokuto, taking it all in at that moment, feels his heart give another flutter. _Akaashi is my best friend_ , he thinks, and another dorky-ass grin plasters itself even wider across his face. _My best friend and the one I like, wow._

"You're a pretty great best friend too, Bokuto-san," Akaashi says, and Bokuto thinks that maybe his nickname isn't all that bad, as nicknames tend to go.

\-----

The evening before Bokuto's calculus final is spent with Akaashi inside of Fukurodani Coffee. They've been sitting there for two hours already, poring over textbooks and stray sheets of paper, and the sun has only just begun to go down. Bokuto's managed to scrape by with a packet of gummies and a small muffin, but he's running out of steam rather quickly. 

It gets to the point where Akaashi notices a lag present in the slowed movements of his pencil and the way his posture begins to slump forward. A particularly difficult one takes him much longer than it should, and he grumbles in frustration almost the whole way through. 

"Akaashi," he whines, "I need help."

The raven scoots his chair a fraction closer, bending over to see Bokuto's paper better. Bokuto tries not to be too aware of their proximity while Akaashi skims over his work to check for errors and determine the quickest path to success. 

After a moment, he leans back in his chair. "You're on the right track here. Try multiplying by the inverse of the function in the step before the one you're on here, and that should help with things."

Bokuto's tongue finds its way between his teeth as he works, eyes laser-focused on the paper before him. He finally approaches the answer through a mess of scribbled-out numbers and eraser shavings, doing so with a cheer when he reaches the end. He sticks a hand out over the table, palm turned up. Akaashi looks down at it and then up at him, eyebrows raised. 

"For a high-five," Bokuto goads him. "I just solved a super tough problem, yeah?"

"I helped," Akaashi notes.

Bokuto nods his head and then wiggles his eyebrows at the man next to him. "Yeah, which is why high-fives are so cool! They sorta tend to go both ways."

A pair of blue-green eyes are rolled dramatically as Akaashi sighs good-naturedly. "Something tells me that no matter what I say, you'll be getting your way here." He obliges with a high-five, and Bokuto cheers internally at the gesture. 

They continue like this for a while, and Bokuto finds that his mood lifts with every high-five that he is begrudgingly granted (not that Akaashi minds; it's apparent in the way his eyes spark with humor each time). The crowds wax and wane as the night pulls on, the twinkling lights inside the cafe dancing across the tables' surfaces merrily. 

Finally, Bokuto decides that he needs a short break, and so he pushes his chair out and heads toward the counter, telling Akaashi that he'll be back with two coffees. Something in his chest burns with pride at the fact that he doesn't even need to ask for the other's order anymore; it's tucked away safely in the mental filing cabinet that he has devoted to his very, very pretty friend. 

Konoha is manning the register, and grins at Bokuto when he reaches the front of the line. 

"Well, well, well, look who we have here," Konoha drawls. "I know you love me and all, but I have to ask you to not interfere with my work life due to your undying admiration for me."

Bokuto crosses his arms. "Rude. Wanna take my order or should I tell Suga that you're harassing the clientele?"

The blond huffs something about Bokuto seriously not counting at all, but nonetheless takes the two orders. His lips draw up in a mischievous smile when Bokuto rattles off the second order, and he knows Konoha well enough to be aware of the fact that the aforementioned smile never means anything good. 

"How about you go sit back down? I'll bring your coffees to you when they're finished," Konoha presses. Bokuto opens his mouth to protest, but before he can do so, the blond is waggling a finger at him. "No protests. My treat. What, can't a guy be nice to his buddy sometimes?"

"With you, it's never that easy," Bokuto groans, but gives him the money and moves to sit back down with Akaashi, casting one look back at the form behind the counter. He looks ridiculously smug back there. 

Akaashi hums when Bokuto sits down. "Decided against coffee?"

He shakes his head. "Konoha is insisting on bringing them over. I don't know why, but since it's him, I bet it's nothing good."

As if on cue, Konoha makes eye contact with him and places two mugs on a platter before making a beeline from the counter to their table, expertly dodging a girl who nearly walks right into him. When he arrives at their table, he pauses and gives Akaashi what Bokuto can only describe as an appraising once-over. 

"For out lovely Bokuto-chan," he hums, placing one mug down next to the paper. Bokuto grumbles at the name but appreciates the way no coffee hits the paper as it is carefully set down. 

And then:

"And for his lovelier date."

Two heads whip up to look at Konoha, who's seeming immensely pleased with himself, and then down to the contents of the mug which has been set before Akaashi. Bokuto regards the heart made of latte foam with horror before turning his pained eyes up back to the traitor of a friend who's still got that ridiculously smug look on his face. 

He does his best to keep his voice low, but he ends up landing somewhere around a yowling whisper. "Akaashi is not my date! We live together and he's helping me study!"

The color drains from Konoha's face all at once, and honestly, it's probably all been redirected to Bokuto's ears and cheeks. He feels like a walking strawberry. 

"Oh, jesus," Konoha swears, and then snickers despite himself. "My bad."

Bokuto is about to launch himself at the idiot from across the table when he hears a small laugh from next to him. He turns his head to see Akaashi looking down at the foam heart, which is looking a little more rectangular than it did before. 

"Do your wingman tactics have a very high success rate-" Akaashi pauses to peer at the nametag pinned to the uniform shirt. "-Konoha-san?"

Konoha coughs. "Not particularly."

"And no wonder!" Bokuto half-wails. He drags a hand through his hair and brings in back to cup over his eyes. "You gotta warn me when you try to do this shit, man!"

"To be fair, it was really funny, which is kind of what I had been hoping for regardless," Konoha says with a shrug. "I like watching you flounder."

Bokuto presses his mouth into a flat line. He narrows his eyes at his coworker and prays that for once, the forces which control the mortal plane would give him the ability to shoot lasers. Just one time. 

Akaashi looks over with a mixture of guilt and amusement. "It was a little funny. You looked like you were going to pass out right into your coffee."

"Don't side with him!" Bokuto screeches.

\-----

Bokuto takes his exam the next day, and only has to circle three problems to come back to later. 

\-----

His last exam takes place on the second to last day of the semester. On the final day of the week, Akaashi still has another exam, but it's his last. It's not his hardest, either, so instead of studying long past when Bokuto's head hits his pillow, he closes his book at about 10 p.m. with a deep exhale. 

Bokuto bounces over at the sound, grinning from ear to ear. "You done studying, 'Kaashi?"

"Yeah. I think that if I do any more, it'll end up being more harmful than helpful," the other says. 

At this, Bokuto lets out a celebratory whoop. He grabs one of Akaashi's hands and yanks him out of his chair, holding the arm high above their heads like one would do a boxer who just won a match in the ring. "And when you pass that exam, then we're free until the fall term!"

Akaashi smiles at him. "That we are."

Bokuto pointedly ignores the little dance that his heart does at the sight. He tugs on Akaashi's arm once again, dragging him to their small couch and directing him to sit down. When satisfied that his roommate has sunk into the cushions enough, he hurtles into the kitchen, grabs a bowl of fruit that he cut up in preparation - yes, he's enough of a functioning adult to even get fruit once or twice a month - and speeds back to the couch. 

He plops down next to Akaashi and sets the bowl in between them. "Here! I cut these up a little bit ago when you were working, and it has strawberries and blackberries, since they're your favorites, and then I have my grapes and raspberries. There's other stuff in there too, though!"

"Wow," Akaashi marvels. "And you didn't cut yourself?"

"Almost!" He beams, and then realizes that he admitted so with a little too much pride. "I didn't mean it like, 'yay, I almost cut myself,' more like 'yay, I almost cut myself but I didn't this time.'"

"I gathered, don't worry," Akaashi says, and pops a blackberry into his mouth. He sighs at the taste, and the sound goes straight to Bokuto's chest. 

Bokuto, to distract himself, picks out a grape, and nearly vacuums it into his mouth with the intensity with which he eats it. He munches happily on it for a moment and mentally pats himself on the back for doing a Grown Up Thing. After another contented silence, during which time they both pick out small pieces of fruit, Bokuto leans forward to grab the remote. 

"Whatcha feel like watching?" He asks, and waits for Akaashi to finish chewing. 

"A nature documentary?" The raven asks, and Bokuto totally cheers in his head, because he was hoping that he would say that. 

So, like a good best friend and roommate, he dutifully finds them a nature documentary. This one is about the arctic, and they spend the next hour ooh-ing and ahh-ing over little white foxes and littler white hares. Bokuto watches, transfixed, as a fox chases a hare across the ivory tundra, kicking up snow as they race. In the end, it's the hare who proves victorious, slipping into its little hole in the ground. 

Somewhere along the line, Akaashi dozes off. Bokuto's not really sure when it happened, but at some point he became aware of the weight of his head on his shoulder. No way in hell would he ever make to shrug him off, though, so he elects to smile to himself and re-adjust the tiniest bit to hopefully make himself into a more comfortable headrest. 

The program ends and Bokuto shuts the television off with a satisfying click. He pauses, then, conflicted. On one hand, he should wake Akaashi up so his neck doesn't end up hurting. On the other hand, he can totally just get him into bed without waking him up because he's been working himself to the bone lately and deserves to just sleep, for once. Also, because he's letting out the softest little snores right now and they're doing things to Bokuto's heart. 

In the end, Bokuto is a very weak man, and thus elects to nudge Akaashi's head off of him ever-so-gently so he can stand. He then bends down, wraps an arm around the sleeping form's back and looping the other under his legs, and hoists him upward. Something in him soars at the feeling of Akaashi cradled flush to his chest, like he's carrying him bridal-style, and this is so not good for his health. 

Akaashi's chest rises and falls with every languid breath, and as Bokuto moves to rest him on his bed (pulling the covers aside whilst not dropping him was a feat in itself), he relishes in the soft vulnerability before him. Sure, Akaashi couldn't exactly help falling asleep, but some part of Bokuto wants desperately to believe it served as some sort of promise of trust. 

Like, "hey, I trust you to not chuck me out of a window while I sleep," or something. 

He pulls the covers up over Akaashi, who mumbles something indecipherable and tugs them up higher to his chin. Bokuto is about to climb into his own bed, maybe dick around on his phone for a bit, when he looks down once more. On Akaashi's cheek resides a small spatter of dried blackberry juice, probably from a particularly ripe one. It almost looks like a dusting of moles, delicate and pretty, on the smooth skin. 

He's overcome by the urge to kiss it from Akaashi's face, and when that thought strikes him, he does a _hard_ pivot and marches into the bathroom to hunt down a washcloth. Bokuto returns a moment later, washcloth dipped in warm water, and gently wipes the blackberry juice from Akaashi's cheek.

Somehow, the urge to kiss his cheek doesn't fade in the slightest. If anything, it takes even more resolve for Bokuto to shepherd himself away than it did the first time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh MAN has it been a packed couple of weeks!! sorry that this is late on upload - again - i was across the country and the election and wheeeew!! but hey, we're back in business :) this chapter was initially supposed to have another part, but it would have been ridiculously unnecessary and long, so it's just a fraction shorter than my average chapter. we'll be meeting some new people next time, though!


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which bokuto creates (and then fixes) a slightly uncomfortable situation and travels home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> howdy! even though technically "bokuto" is his last name, i sorta started the story by calling him that, and i worried that switching it up for one chapter would be weird. he's still referred to as "bokuto" in the context of the writing itself, but his family members do not call him that (as it would be weird to call a family member by his/her/their last name). hope this clears that up!

Normally, Bokuto can never wait for summer break to come; it's as if the weeks leading up to it drag by at a snail's pace. He always rejoices on the first day after the spring semester ends, when the hot sun has a purpose and he can inhale as many sweet, icy popsicles as he wants under its warm rays. 

He always misses his friends for the couple of weeks that they all go home, sure, but in the back of his mind he knows that they'll all be back in a little while anyways, so the pinch of sadness never lingers. Plus, it's not as if they don't keep in touch in the meantime - they always inevitably blow up their group chat with a ridiculous slew of half-indecipherable messages and context-less photos. 

But when he inevitably has to say his goodbyes to Akaashi as he leaves for the train station, arms laden with bags, he knows in his chest that these two weeks are going to feel more like two years. He's never had someone like Akaashi to come home to after a long day, never had a person waiting for him with a quiet smile and a laugh that makes his heart stutter quite like Akaashi's does, and he doesn't know yet what that means but he's in no particular rush to search for the answer. 

A rare breeze flutters by as Bokuto stands on the sidewalk by their dorm, eyes hurriedly drinking in the last of Akaashi's face in an attempt to etch it into the side of his brain. He knows he's not talking as much as he should be - he should be less obvious than this, dammit - but he'll be so mad if he makes it all the way home and immediately forget about the green-blues of those piercing eyes in front of him. 

"You'll let me know when you get there safe?" Akaashi asks, and Bokuto snaps out of his stupor. 

He hastily agrees, and then makes sure that Akaashi will do the same (otherwise he'll think he was kidnapped or something). Akaashi rolls his eyes good-naturedly and tells him that of course he will, but Bokuto really can't talk about him being kidnapped when they're out and about or else he'll start getting weird stares. 

"Ah, like people don't give you stares already," Bokuto snorts, and then is overwhelmed by the desire to smash his head against the brick wall because what functioning member of society just says shit like that? 

Akaashi's eyes narrow a fraction, and Bokuto imagines that this is what a mouse being stalked by a cat feels like. "I get stares?"

He frantically waves his hands around in an attempt to diffuse the sudden wave of awkwardness that's crashed over their conversation. It's a bit awkward, because he has a bag half-slung over his shoulder. "No! I didn't mean because you're funny to look at, I swear - I meant in the nice way, I promise! It's because you're the kind of person that other people stare at because of the way you look!"

When it comes to most people, Bokuto is actually pretty good at being charming, but sometimes it's as if he's just as bad at operating around the raven as he was on day one. If his attempts at flirting with Akaashi were an airplane, that airplane would be crashing and burning right now. It's missing its left wing, the pilots have passed out at the helm, and like three people have already been sucked out of a major hole in the cabin wall. 

A pair of eyebrows raise, and Bokuto knows that if he doesn't perform major corrective surgery on this conversation ASAP, he'll be torturing himself over it for the full two weeks. If he didn't know any better, he'd think that a glimmer of something unhappy flashes through the steely gaze, and something in his chest wrenches. "People stare at me because of the way I look."

The gears in Bokuto's brain finally unstick themselves from one another and begin to grind and turn at long last. He doesn't stop to figure out whether or not they're rotating in reverse now, because his stupid mouth might've just hurt Akaashi's feelings, and that's probably the last thing he'd ever want to do. 

" _Yes_ ," he gasps out, and he might as well be honest. At least he won't have to face the awkwardness of whatever consequences might follow for two weeks. "People stare at you because you have nice eyes and pretty hair, and a lot of other stuff! It happened the other day at the library - some girl couldn't take her eyes off of you - and that isn't even remotely uncommon for you. They haven't even seen you smile yet, and that's just a whole other ball park, and they still stare, man!" 

Nobody is around to hear the outburst, thankfully. However, this also means that when he finishes, it's completely quiet save for the faint rustling of green leaves above their heads. His grip tightens on the bag in his hand and he considers just making a break for it down the sidewalk. He has the good sense to let his gaze trail down to the concrete, like he's a child waiting for some punishment from a parent, and his shoulders drag up around his ears. He hopes that he doesn't miss his train. 

"You like my smile?"

His gaze shoots up to Akaashi again, whose white shirt is buffeted by the breeze. The raven's eyes glitter with something different now, but it's unreadable. There's no smile on his face, and it feels like there's a faint warm glow washing over Bokuto regardless, as if the smile is carved into his very feeling, and it's all too much. He's overwhelmed by the feeling to say or do something stupid, because he's free and it's summer and he's going to miss Akaashi a lot, more than he ever misses people for two weeks at a time.

It doesn't help that Akaashi's eyes flash blue-green and the dusty pink of his lips is that much more pronounced in the rippling sunlight. It doesn't help that Bokuto's heart is all but beating out of his chest at the sight of a faint flush across Akaashi's cheeks. It all makes him think for a moment that maybe, just maybe, Akaashi wants Bokuto to like his smile, and it all doesn't help him one bit.

So, he decides to be stupid, let himself indulge in irrationality. 

"You bet," he breathes out, chest swelling with a laugh at the admission. He doesn't just like Akaashi's smile, he loves it. Bokuto would just sit and watch Akaashi grin and laugh all day, coax them out of him with little anecdotes and silly jokes, bask in them, if he could. Akaashi doesn't have to know that much, though. 

And in that moment, he chooses to look down at the time, and he looks back up in a panic. "My train! I'm so gonna be late!"

"Go!" Akaashi says, and makes a shooing motion with his hand. His eyes crinkle at the corners as he waves. "Don't be late!"

"I won't!" Bokuto calls, and then he's tearing down the pavement, practically bounding, and laughter rushes from his lungs. 

It's summer, and even if he won't be seeing Akaashi for part of it, something tells him that it's going to be a good one. 

\-----

One long train ride and even longer walk home (it's not that long, but his arms are killing him so it's pretty much twenty-seven miles) later, he arrives at his front doorstep. He heaves a bag onto his shoulder with a groan and uses his free hand to pound on the door. Almost at once, the door is flung open to reveal his mother's smiling face. 

"Koutarou!" She beams, and swings the door open to nearly topple him in a hug. 

He pitches forward in a desperate attempt to right himself, laughing through a smile. "Mom, I'm gonna fall!"

His mother immediately backs up and reaches out to grab a bag from his hands. "Well then, come in, and then I can hug you properly."

The air inside their house is cool and smells of seasonings, as per usual. It's like that year-round, and has been for basically forever. The walls are covered in framed photos and poorly-drawn self portraits from years of grade school, eyes and noses scribbled on in messy crayons, smiles gleaming as the family poses for a photo. 

A soup bubbles in the kitchen, its friendly burble barely audible over the music that plays from the radio (one of his mom's favorite radio stations that always plays her favorite music from the 80s). A faint patter of footsteps sounds above. 

"Let me look at you!" His mother stops him after he toes off his shoes and sets down his bags, scanning him up and down for a moment. She sighs deeply after she finishes her appraisal and immediately grabs his shoulders to steer him to a table. "As I expected, you've lost weight. You're lucky that I'm such an incredible mother and already had food prepared, aren't you?"

Bokuto can't help but agree, because she really is a stellar mom. 

Haname is in her sixties now, and yet has not lost an ounce of her vigor. She stands far below him, her eyes somewhere around his chin, and yet with a single look she can tower far above. She's spirited and lively, and when she laughs, her laugher fills up the entire room and then some. 

His mother is also incredibly kind. She has always been one of his greatest pillars, always armed and at the ready with a glass of water and a crushing hug. Haname pushed him to challenge himself throughout school and beyond; she was the one to suggest he try out volleyball and look at his current college, and she never once missed a single one of his games. Her whoops and cheers could be heard from the court at every victory, and they were always worth more than any medal he could have won. 

She held his hand when he told her about his first crush on a boy in high school, rubbed his back in small circles whilst telling him that he deserved nothing less than unconditional love, let him dry his tears on her shoulder, tucked him into her side to fall asleep with small, hiccupping breaths. When he came home in tears after his first breakup, she cooked him his favorite dinner, tugged him with her to the couch, and pulled him tightly to her as she ran her hands through her hair to the background noise of a nature documentary. 

Haname is strong and kind. She is both at once; her strength has never warped into callousness, and her kindness never gave way to uncertainty. Never once has she wavered in either, because his mother is not the sort to waver. She is sure and steadfast, fiercely protective of what she believes and who she believes in, and Bokuto wants nothing more than to be as much of a wonder as she is. 

So he complies; he sits down at the table and dutifully drinks the glass of water handed to him. When she sets down a bowl of soup down on the table, he clasps his hands together and chirps out his thanks, and eagerly digs into the bowl. He pretends not to notice the proud grin on her face while she watches him devour his food. 

He's almost done with his soup when two pairs of footsteps come pounding down the stairs in tandem. The last of his food makes it into his stomach, and not a second too soon, because suddenly he's being jostled by two bodies pressed to either side of him. 

"Hey, hey, Kou!" Toshiko cheers. "You're back, and in one piece!" 

"We were worried you'd forget your way back," Wakumi smirks, rubbing his hair affectionately. 

Bokuto can't help but grin, even if his sisters' first move upon seeing him was to drag his directional skills. "Yeah, yeah, I missed you guys too."

They both pull back, standing on either side of him, and he sits still to allow them to better assess him (it happens every time; he's just used to it by now). After a moment, Wakumi squints at him, then looks over his shoulder at their mother. "Does he look thinner to you, or is that just my eyes?"

"Nah, definitely skinnier," Toshiko hums. Haname nods solemnly in agreement, and Bokuto throws up his hands in protest. 

"I'm not skinnier, guys, I promise!" He cries, but it's to no avail. Once the minds of the Bokuto family women are made up, they're damn near impossible to change. Instead of trying to argue further, he slumps back in his chair. "I even have a roommate who knows how to cook. I ate a vegetable the other day, I swear!"

Wakumi buries her face in her hands. "A vegetable. Like, one singular vegetable."

"It's cool, man." Toshiko pats him on the shoulder. "I ate ice cubes and sandwiches for two years straight when I was in college. It was pretty gruesome." 

If Haname is who Bokuto aspires to be, Toshiko and Wakumi are the ones who shaped him.

Toshiko, twenty-three and still bursting with energy, is the sort of person to jump out of dark doorways to scare someone after a horror movie and explode with laughter even if it doesn't scare them one bit. Her appearance matches her demeanor: taller than average by a few inches, her hair only adds to her height, seemingly always pulled into a high ponytail. No matter how hard she tries, she can never quite get every fly-away piece of hair into the ponytail (like, never - not once), so the sides of her face are framed by a couple of strands at any given time. 

She picked up basketball in middle school and, in true Bokuto family fashion, never let it go. Grueling practice after grueling practice turned her from a fumbling mess to a star on the local courts, and she wore the confidence like a glove. A few years back, she was scouted by a recruiter for a local professional team and eagerly accepted the offer - her team had since found a few other diamonds in the rough, so to speak, and was now entering the spotlight for the first time in years. 

For what she lacked in volume control as a child, she made up for with adventure in spades. Toshiko was, as she liked to boast, a witch in training, and often tugged Bokuto along with her to the park down the road in search of items to add to her potions. Pretty rocks and funny-looking leaves were staples in her draughts, as were the occasional worm and sprinkle of dirt. 

Wakumi is smart as a whip, even more so at twenty-five than she was at fourteen, and with it come her seemingly endless array of large words and complex jokes (which fly over his head rather often). Her wits have only been sharpened by her job as a freelance journalist, an occupation she had coveted ever since she was young and hastily scribbling down notes from important interviews conducted with the family cat. Only a couple of years into the field, she's already notorious for being able to coax important information out of sources with her easy smile and unfaltering determination.

Her hair is cropped just above her shoulders and falls in light bangs across her brow, and her glasses sit idly upon the bridge of her nose. She has the tendency to laugh in short, barking bursts and never allows others to prevent her from speaking her mind. Whether it be with regards to the mochi she ate after dinner or her feelings on the current political sphere, Wakumi never "wasted time worrying about other people's feelings on her feelings," as she liked to put it. And, for what it was worth, those who intended to get her to pipe down were often sent hailing home with their tails between their legs. 

_I totally have the coolest family ever, even if Toshiko used to try to steal all the meat from my soup bowl_ , he thinks, and out of habit glances down only to see Toshiko trying to steal all the meat from his soup bowl. 

"You suck!" He cries, and lunges for the meat. 

\-----

Two nights later, he lays in his old bed, curled up tightly under the covers despite the warm weather. It's almost like nothing has changed; his stack of books in the corner is still disheveled, the haphazard array of framed family pictures litter his desk, and that one corner of his small rug stubbornly sticks up into the air, still unyielding no matter his attempts to flatten it. 

He gazes upward at his ceiling, where glow-in-the-dark stars twinkle back at him in their clusters of neon green. They'd attempted to arrange them according to actual constellations, but halfway through trying to figure out where the heck Betelgeuse was supposed to go, the idea was aborted. Nevertheless, Bokuto thinks that he likes them better that way. They're messy and scattered and some sit much too close or far away from one another for it to resemble a real starry sky in any respect, but they're his design, which is infinitely cooler than any diagram.

Downstairs, he hears a burst of laughter - probably Toshiko after Wakumi told another one of those side-splitting jokes of hers - and grins to himself. After a moment, this wanes a fraction. Over the duration of the last couple of days, something keeps nagging at him. It's disconcerting, similar to the feeling one gets after realizing that a piece of inventory was left at home as one is boarding the plane for a vacation. Like some part of something is missing. 

He tries to pretend that he doesn't know what that thing is, tries to fool himself into cluelessness, because pretending that he left a charger in his dorm is much easier than facing the realization that he's missing something which cannot be simply stuffed into a piece of luggage. It's just not how he operates, really - he's not materialistic in any respect, but he also doesn't tend to dwell on things outside of his current sphere of influence, so to speak.

The feeling nags at him. It's so stupid, too - he'll be seeing Akaashi in a little over a week and a half, anyways - but something tugs at his chest when he thinks about how prettily those blue-green eyes would spark under his light-up ceiling.

Bokuto turns over onto his side, facing the wall, and pulls his bottom lip between his teeth. He's going down this road again, and it seems that once he starts down it, he's incapable of looking back. Every time he thinks of those eyes, the lips always follow, then the gossamer hair, then the slender hands. Then it's Akaashi, laying there in a deep sleep, or munching quietly on an onigiri, or mouthing the words of his textbook as he reads them. It's a road which he neither wants or can turn back from. 

So he lays there under his stars and presses his eyes shut. This way, he can almost picture Akaashi laying next to him, eyelids fluttering open and shut as he works to stave off the warm darkness of sleep. And oh, how Bokuto would give anything to tuck a stray curl of hair behind his ear and press a kiss there, and whisper something sugary-sweet (the kind that gives you cavities). Akaashi would murmur something inaudible back, something slurred by sleep and slow, like rich honey and lavender, and Bokuto could fall a little harder for him with every word. 

He wants to pull this dream-Akaashi closer, press him into his chest as if he's trying to envelop all of his being. Akaashi's breathing would steady after a moment, and Bokuto would be able to feel the rise and fall of his lungs against his own body, and he would know that the person he cares so deeply about is safe in his arms. And, if Akaashi agreed, he'd never let him go.

Bokuto groans loudly and rolls onto his back again, grabbing the pillow next to him and shoving it over his face. He's hopeless, utterly hopeless. If Kuroo could hear his thoughts right now, he would quite literally never see the end of the teasing to come. And if _Akaashi_ heard, he would have no choice but to take a swan dive off of Tokyo Tower. 

And yet that level gaze, glimmering with humor, stays tattooed on the backs of his eyelids. _God, this is so bad for my health_ , he thinks with another loud groan. 

Being around Akaashi is is like looking at the sun; it's so exhilarating and exciting and new, so radiant that it's impossible to tear his eyes away. When he finally has to look down at the ground, though, the spots that the sun leaves dance in his eyes, floating here and there no matter whether his eyes are open or closed. They're magenta and cerulean and tangerine-colored, never able to capture the sun's brilliant hue, only a poor imitation of its beauty, and it always leaves him wanting more. 

He's sure that if he asked, Akaashi would never describe himself as "brilliant." He's too humble for such a word - he would simply wave him off with a chuckle and good-natured roll of the eyes. Bokuto, however, doesn't think he's seen anything brighter and more beautiful in his life. (Really, it's like the guy is physically unable to be unattractive at any point in time, ever.)

Akaashi is quietly radiant. Rather than the blazing summer sun which never allows anything to slip from its watchful eye, frying everything in its path and leaving unsightly sunburns, Akaashi is like a warm spring day. He's refreshing and graceful, a breath of fresh air, and warms Bokuto from the inside out, as if his rays seep right down into his very bones. 

_Get a grip, Koutarou!_ He chides himself. _You're a second-year in college, not Socrates_. 

He squeezes his eyes shut and resolves to go to sleep, but it takes three whole separate Akaashi-centric mental scenarios for Bokuto to feel tired in any regard. 

\-----

He's woken up by a pillow clocking him right across the face. 

"Koutarou, get up! It's ten already!"

Oh, wow. The world's first screaming pillow. The world of science remains unparalleled, indeed. 

A hand latches mercilessly onto his ankle and yanks, and Bokuto is snapped out of his sleepy stupor in no time. As it turns out, scientists have yet to discover the first-ever screaming pillow. Wakumi smirks down at him, and for a moment, he's reminded of Kuroo's smug grin. He feels a shudder run through his frame. 

"Good morning, princess," she smiles, "you have drool all over your cheek." 

"Do not!" He cries, and immediately wipes away the drool that is all over his cheek. He pointedly ignores her victorious chuckle. 

Wakumi, still holding fast to his ankle - she's deceptively strong, evidently - uses one of his legs to push the other to the side. She then sits on the edge of his bed, gaze cheerful but imploring. "So what's up with you lately?"

Bokuto cocks his head to one side. "Come again?"

"You're being weird. We've all seen it. Every now and then you get this bizarrely wistful look on your face and you start gazing at like, a wall, and I don't think I've seen you this pensive since you tried to figure out how Rudolph could make his nose grow on command when you were seven."

If Wakumi was incorrect in any regard, he would have scoffed at the accusation. Unfortunately, she is entirely correct in her observations, so he resolves to huff loudly. "I'm fine."

"Oh no, no, no," she tuts. "I've known you since you were the size of a yam. You can't fool any of us, so mom and Toshiko sent me up here to see what the hell you're moping about. Now spill." 

Out of all of the families in the world, why did he have to be born into one with a damn journalist as an older sister? Of course they would send in Ms. I-Interrogate-People-For-A-Paycheck up to get information out of him. 

Bokuto is well-aware of the fact that regardless of whether or not he wants to talk, Wakumi will be leaving his room with the entire insider scoop one way or another. He sets his jaw for a moment, trying to face her inquisition with a (half-assed) bluff, but the look on her face says that his acting skills are lacking in conviction. 

"Fine, fine. I'll tell you, but you're taking me out for yakiniku for lunch if I give you all the details." 

Wakumi, ever the good big sister, is also well-aware of the fact that she could wheedle all the information out of him anyways. But she is, of course, a good big sister, and thus she nods decisively and sticks out a hand for him to shake. "Deal."

So, in true Bokuto fashion, he spills everything. Well, he omits that time with the awkward post-masturbation confrontation and anything with a possible connection to it, but he spills everything else. Wakumi doesn't try to play journalist with him; there are no prodding questions, no requests for him to elaborate. Instead, she just nods and hums on occasion, sometimes makes a sympathetic noise in the back of her throat. 

When all is said, she leans back on her palms. "Yeah, that sounds about right to me. Only you would pout for two straight days because you miss your would-be boyfriend."

"He's not my would-be boyfriend!" Bokuto gapes. "No way is he interested! He's my best friend, not boyfriend! There's a huge difference there, dude."

"Sure. This all sounds really platonic to me," Wakumi drawls. She raises both eyebrows at him, as if to say "use a bit of critical thinking," but he decides not to feed into his issue by giving her a reaction. "Well, regardless, I can tell Toshiko and Mom, right?"

As if his answer will matter. Those two would just find out through their own bizarre ways anyhow. "If you really have to." 

She claps her hands together excitedly. "Yay! I can't wait to meet this Akaashi of yours someday!"

 _Under no circumstances are she and Toshiko allowed to speak to Akaashi_ , he thinks, and makes a special mental note of it just to be extra sure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> man, i've really been lacking lately. i'm gonna choose to blame it on the imminent end to the first semester and use that to make myself feel better. however, i GRINDED last night to get this done for Akaashi Day (tm) because it is more important than some boring old sleep schedule. hope that this one wasn't too bad!


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which bokuto comes home and then leaves for another trip.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> whoa ho ho, look who's back! (it's me.) merry christmas and happy holidays!

A little over two weeks later, Bokuto finds himself hauling his bags down the stairs to the front door of the house. The time both flew and dragged by - rather, the days were short, filled with laughter, good food, and a number of stupid, childish banter, and the nights were long and laden with the half-squashed down desire to pull a certain someone into his arms. His mom's cooking also definitely did a number on him; he's sure that his face looks fuller than it did when he first arrived. 

Of course, his family was loathe to see him go. Haname had loaded him arms with enough home cooking to feed a small nation, and then double-checked (make that triple-checked) that he had enough water for the trip back to the campus. 

"You looked so thin, Koutarou," she chides him as he stands in the foyer. "You need to take good care of yourself."

Toshiko snorts. "This is Koutarou that we're talking about. I think the only reason he's alive thus far is because of a certain someone who's been keeping him in check lately."

Bokuto shoots her a dirty look, to which she replies with a raspberry blown in his direction. 

"You know I'm right."

"Are not!"

"Am too!"

"Are not!"

"Am t-" 

"Anyways," Wakumi says, a touch louder than normal, "try to enjoy the rest of your summer, alright? You deserve some relaxation." 

He beams at her. "Absolutely will do. Roger that, captain!"

It's another ten or so minutes before he actually leaves. His mom pulls him in for another back-breaking hug ( _seriously, how is she so damn strong?_ he thinks, bewildered) and kisses him once on each cheek. His sisters take turns tousling his hair and fidgeting with his clothes, making him promise to keep them updated on what they've dubbed Operation: Akaashi before he's out of the door with an exclamation of "I'm going to miss my train!"

He's beginning to see a trend in his timing regarding the catching of trains. 

The ride back isn't bad, either. Bokuto shoots some texts to various people, letting Kuroo and Kenma know that he'll be back in a couple of hours, telling Daichi that he's planning to hit the gym the next day, so on and so forth. 

His next order of business is to clarify their plans for the following week in the giant group chat that had been created a little while back. He grins wildly as a flurry of texts flood in - first from Tanaka, then Oikawa, then Yamaguchi, and after that he loses track. 

As it had turned out, almost everyone was going to be back in town by the third week of summer break. Due to the fact that college students are generally restless and thus do not particularly enjoy sitting around and doing absolutely nothing for weeks, the group had arranged to do exactly what a bunch of easily-excited young adults would do if given the chance: get a bunch of friends together and rent a gigantic mansion on a lake for a night.

The mansion had been available for rent at a ridiculously exorbitant price, one that Bokuto's wallet would have positively wept at if it was paying in full. It was, however, decidedly not paying in full; the cost was to be split amongst nineteen people total. From the pictures posted online, it appeared that the mansion had (among other things): eight separate bedrooms, a pool, a hot tub, a deck which led directly to the lake's edge, and what had to be the world's grandest fireplace. 

So, yeah, Bokuto was mega-psyched. Two full days with pretty much all of his friends, a huge mansion, unsupervised alcohol (provided by Tanaka's super-cool older sister), and a lake during the summer? Color him eager. 

_Not to mention the prospect of seeing Akaashi in nothing but a pair of shorts_ , his brain offers, and he mentally kicks himself, fighting to keep a blush from spreading down into his collar. 

\-----

Akaashi returns two days later, catching Bokuto's eye as he enters their dorm bathed in sunlight and with sweat adorning his brow. He breaks into an easy smile when their gazes meet and Bokuto feels his entire chest do a somersault before he springs off of the couch to help with Akaashi's bags. 

"How was your trip?" Akaashi asks as he sets down a duffel bag on his bed. "You said your sisters were around?"

Bokuto's grin threatens to split his face in two. "It was so great! Wakumi and Toshiko were there the whole time, and I kind of forgot what my old bedroom was like, and oh my god, my mom's cooking is life-changing."

Akaashi perks up a tiny bit at the mention of home-cooked food. _He probably had to cook for himself the whole time that he was visiting, since his mom can't_ , Bokuto realizes, and feels a tug in his chest. He brightens, suddenly, and dashes to the fridge. 

"Here!" He cheers upon his return, holding out the package of food that he was sent home with. "I want you to have it. Mama Bokuto's finest!"

Blue-green eyes widen, glancing first down at the food and then back up to meet Bokuto's gaze. "Oh no, I couldn't possibly-"

Bokuto snorts. He shakes the pack of food more vigorously, conjuring up his winning puppy dog eyes. Those always have a fifty-fifty success rate, so they're worth a shot. "I absolutely insist. She'd love for you to have it, seeing as you're the main reason that I've been eating like a real human being lately."

Akaashi's gaze flickers back and forth between the food and Bokuto for another moment, evidently battling between pride and hunger at the prospect of delicious homemade food. When the latter seems to come out on top, he takes the package from Bokuto's hands with a tiny bow. 

"Thank you, Bokuto-san."

"Oh, come on, 'Kaashi. It's no big deal!" Bokuto claps him on the shoulder, squashing the tiny flutter in his stomach that arises at the contact. "Now, we have lots to catch up on!"

They sit at their kitchen table, chatting easily. Bokuto learns that Akaashi's mom has been feeling a bit better lately; she's had more energy, seems to laugh with more ease, and smiles often. Bokuto also suspects that this may have something to do with the infectious warmth that Akaashi exudes, but even he isn't so much of a sap so as to voice this opinion aloud. 

When Akaashi finishes, Bokuto shoots him a genuine smile. He's so truly happy for Akaashi - it looks as though a weight has eased off of his shoulders a fraction, and his eyes seem to gleam even brighter than before. He finds that the funny feeling turns over in his stomach more energetically than it ever has before, like his every fiber is literally jumping for joy at this brighter, happier Akaashi. 

In turn, he tells Akaashi of his own visit home - how much he had missed his own mom, how well his sisters are doing, how the plant that sits on the kitchen windowsill is miraculously still alive after seven years. He tells Akaashi nearly every bit of his time there, taking care to omit no details (well, aside from the obvious ones). All the while, Akaashi practically wolfs down the food - he splutters and coughs when he takes a too-large bite of an onigiri and Bokuto finds it hopelessly endearing. 

He goes quiet when he's done, and for a moment, they simply sit there as if basking in one another's company. Specks of dust are illuminated in the rays of sunlight that stream through the air to land on the table, and the chirping of a bird rings quietly from beyond their front door. 

After another moment or two, Bokuto leans to rest his chin on his palm. A slight flush creeps up his cheeks and onto his ears, but he's in that odd mood where he feels bold again, and so he speaks. "You know what's weird, Akaashi? Like, super weird?" 

"What?" Akaashi blinks at him, eyes set alight like glimmering jewels, and the thick lashes which frame them flutter prettily. How the fuck does a human just... look like that? Without even having to try, too. If you measured the shape of his eyes and did a little math, you could probably find a way to prove that the universe spends more time making some people. 

Bokuto finds that staring into such eyes seriously does bad things to his temperature, and thus he elects to watch his finger trace swirling patterns into the table's surface. "I had the best time ever while I was back home, honest. But the whole time I was there, it sort of felt like something was missing, you know? Like when you forget all your socks, or something?"

A hum. "I know the feeling. Off topic, but have you ever actually forgotten all of your socks when leaving for a trip?"

"No comment. Anyways, point is, I love my family to the ends of the earth, but I couldn't shake the feeling that something was off, or lacking. But I don't anymore - I mean, right now. You know what it is, I think?"

"What do you think it is?" Akaashi sounds genuinely interested, and even this warms Bokuto's chest further. The fact that he never blows off what Bokuto has to say, never scoffs at a genuine question, never - ugh, focus. 

Bokuto watches his finger with renewed intensity. "I missed this."

 _I missed you_.

The silence that follows is, as some would say, deafening. At least, it's loud enough to make Bokuto painfully aware of his own pulse thundering in his ears and his breath coming in tiny staccato gulps of air. Literally how does he manage to make everything so awkward with this poor guy?

Just as he's about to pipe up again with an explanation, maybe offer an apology, or possibly put his head through the wall, Akaashi's voice floats through their dorm. "I missed this, too."

Now it's Bokuto's turn to remain silent. He does his best to keep himself from gaping at the table's surface, and covers his face with an arm (hopefully without making the full-on tomato blush that he has going on super obvious). It seems that the raven takes this as a sign to continue.

"When I was visiting my mom, I had a great time. I really did. But it was too quiet. It was a lot of watching her sleep, or eating alone at a nearby cafe, or reading a book as she did a puzzle. A few days in, I was getting restless. Like I would burst if I didn't talk to someone, which is odd, because I've never felt that way much before."

Bokuto lifts his eyes, fully aware of the fact that he's still well-equipped to camouflage right in against a firetruck. "What did you do?"

Akaashi's lips quirk up with the beginnings of a quiet smile. "That was when I first texted you, dumbass."

"Oh, yeah!" Bokuto cocks his head, grinning back. "I was super surprised, honestly! Normally I text you first - which isn't a bad thing, I promise, I'm like that with most people-"

He's waved off lazily with a slender hand and a laugh. "I'm well aware. Kenma's relayed that to me many, many times. He says you're the biggest obstacle when he tries to play games on his phone."

At that, Bokuto crows in protest, to which Akaashi snickers and presses forward with his accusations. They fall into lighthearted bickering, easy as always, and soon they're both keeled over in their seats, shaking with laughter over a joke too wholly stupid to be considered actually funny. 

As he clutches at his sides, feeling them tremble with mirth, allowing laughter to spill from between his lips, Bokuto considers the notion that Akaashi might have missed him just as much as he missed Akaashi. The idea could very well be a ridiculous conclusion, but in this moment, watching his roommate - no, crush - no, best friend - wipe tears from the corners of his sparking eyes, he really doesn't care one bit. 

\-----

"You're not rubbing the sunscreen in well at all."

"Yes I am, Akaashi! See? I'm making little circles, just like you told me to!"

"Too little, Bokuto-san. You look like a snowman."

"I do no- I look like a snowman."

Bokuto's suncreen-slathered shoulders slump forward as he grumbles at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. He winces when he sees the glob sitting atop his nose and the flecks that glue down both eyebrows, proceeding to then frantically rub all over his face to lose the look. His gaze shoots over to Akaashi, who has evidently had no issue in applying his sunscreen. Akaashi's skin shines with the excess oil of the layer of protection he has on, but other than that, no traces of a struggle can be found. 

"No fair!" He whines. "Come help me, if you're such a master at this."

Akaashi snorts, and it seems that he has the good grace to pretend that it was some sort of a sneeze, but he's a truly awful actor. Bokuto's face scrunches. "I still have to finish packing my bag. You have ten minutes before they get here - you'll figure it out by then."

While his roommate may be a little cruel to him in some ways (namely the refusal to help with sunscreen application), Bokuto is extremely glad that he was so eager to go on the trip with the rest of the group. Akaashi was a hard worker on top of a dedicated student with a sprinkle of perfectionist, and Bokuto had made it his personal mission to get him to completely relax during their stay. 

True to his word, Bokuto does figure it out, but not without a number of muttered curses and terrible impressions of a sunscreen salesman who clearly does not know what he's talking about. He makes the voice high and extra-nasally just for good measure, but abruptly stops himself when he catches Akaashi staring at him with raised eyebrows from across the room. 

His phone vibrates in his pocket, and he fishes it out, grimacing on the smears of sunscreen that his fingers leave as he swipes it open. 

(10:17) Kuroo: _heeeeeereeeeeee_

(10:17) be down in a sex

(10:17) sec** shut up shut up sh

He quickly pockets his phone, feeling it vibrate against his leg enough to know that there are definitely several mockeries of his typo being made at his expense. Akaashi looks at him expectantly and he gives a vigorous nod, hair flopping this way and that, before hauling his duffel bad over his shoulder and slipping on his shoes. 

With that, they're out the door. Kuroo's leering grin greets them at the bottom of the stairs from where he's parked beside the sidewalk. Loud music pounds from the car's speakers and some sort of a heated conversation filters from its interior. 

"Hey, pumpkin. Looking sharp."

"Shut up," Bokuto grumbles, fully aware of the way his eyebrows are plastered to his face, and opens the trunk for their bags. Akaashi makes another lousy attempt at suppressing another snicker, and he finds himself slightly less convinced that his roommate is as unconditionally kind as others believe. 

The two clamber into the middle row of the car. Up front sit Kuroo and Kenma, and behind them are Iwaizumi and Oikawa. The car is a rental, too; the campus isn't large enough to require vehicles to get around, and trips into the city can be made by hailing some sort of Uber and coughing up enough cash to be wheeled around. The drive to the lake is about two and a half hours, however, and it was then decided that they would just rent a few cars for the night. 

"Oi, Kenma, feel like changing the tunes to something a little more comprehensible?" Oikawa yells over the screaming bass of the song. No doubt Kenma had been the first to figure out the Bluetooth features and had immediately started playing whatever had first caught his eye among his numerous playlists. 

Kenma swivels in his seat, meeting Oikawa's pleading gaze levelly. "Nah," he says, and Bokuto catches the grin plastered on his face as he swings his head back around among the brunet's cries for mercy. Iwaizumi barks out a laugh - he probably didn't like the music either, but it was loud and making Oikawa whine, so that was likely all of the entertainment he would be needing for at least half an hour.

For someone so small and predisposed to laziness, Kenma sure was one chaos-loving dude. 

Kuroo's hand finds its way to a dial and the music immediately lessens in intensity. He's sent a withering glare from the figure in the seat beside him and shrugs. "I wanna be able to talk, and I can't hear jack shit like this. You play DJ - I just want to keep my eardrums intact."

It seems that Kenma's satisfied with this answer, and to commemorate his success, pulls out his PSP and watches as it blinks to life. 

"He's barely listening to it anyways!" Oikawa howls, and is elbowed gently by Iwaizumi. He placates immediately, moving then to rest his head on the broad shoulder beside him. To Bokuto's surprise, Iwaizumi makes no effort to remove him; instead, he merely turns to the window as if to hide the tiny smile spreading across his face. 

Kuroo wrinkles his nose. "Nasty." 

Nonetheless, his eyes flicker to Kenma for a split second. 

Bokuto finds that he has been quiet for far too long, and immediately moves to amend this problem. "Who wants to sing road trip songs?"

"Absolutely not." Akaashi's head whips toward him, eyes narrowed. "I physically cannot scream over this music at 10:20 in the morning."

"How about 10:30?" Bokuto asks, eyes wide and pleading. 

Akaashi hums thoughtfully. "I'll get back to you on that offer. I'd put your chances at about seventy percent, but only because your mom's food was so good the other day."

" _No_!" Oikawa screeches. 

\-----

True to his word, Akaashi indulges Bokuto in one road trip song. It's probably the pitchiest, voice-crackiest, most eardrum-shattering road trip song on the planet (Bokuto carries all of the high notes, while Akaashi's octave stays relatively in the middle), but by the end Bokuto is nearly convulsing with giggles and Akaashi is muffling laughter with a fist. 

"He used to be so sane," Oikawa moans. "What the hell did you do to him, Kou-chan?"

Bokuto grins. "I gave him my mom's cooking."

\-----

They arrive a little bit past noon, one of the first to cars to pull up after Daichi's car of four. Soon after them, a small car comes flying in, coming to a screeching stop on the pavement. Out stumble a very disgruntled-looking Kageyama and Hinata, both clutching at nothing to keep themselves steady. Tanaka and Nishinoya then pop out with a whoop. (Bokuto had heard stories of Tanaka's sister's driving abilities, and it seems that he had inherited her tendencies behind the wheel.)

A green sedan is next to pull up neatly beside the curb. Bokuto greets Tsukishima with an enthusiastic cheer and is met with a less-than-enthusiastic response. When he goes to high-five Yamaguchi, however, the brunet does so with a grin. The small blonde - Yachi, he remembers - squeaks when he comes dashing up, but she manages to get out a chirping greeting and small smile. 

The last to arrive is another sedan; out step a lanky boy with a head of spiky red hair and a much broader brunet with a solemn look on his face. Tendou is a friend of Kuroo's who Bokuto had met once at a party - his reputation as a somewhat odd guy had preceded him, but it quickly became clear that he was just a sort of eccentric dude who loved goofing off. They had very quickly hit it off - so well, in fact, that Daichi had to haul them back inside the house to keep them from drunkenly trying to scale a tree. 

He knows Ushijima less well, only that he's quiet and was at one point in time a very powerful ace for a powerhouse high school's volleyball team. Ushijima seems nice enough, if a little blunt and slow to grasp sarcasm. He's a well-meaning guy, though, and when he offers advice it's always genuine, so Bokuto finds that he likes him too. 

They all crowd into the mansion. Some (Bokuto included) take off to explore the house, find all the nooks and crannies which less-excited seekers may otherwise miss. They had also decided to mostly pair off, with the exception of a room of three (in which Asahi was stuck with Daichi and Suga to prevent from any late night "frolicking") and a room of four (in which Tanaka, Nishinoya, Hinata, and Kageyama would "confine their dumbassery to one room," as Daichi - the unofficial planner - had put it). 

Thus, Bokuto has to ensure that he and Akaashi get the coolest room possible. 

It takes a few minutes of dashing madly throughout the labyrinthine halls of the mansion - during which time he hears Tsukishima make a very dry comment regarding the five so-called children they have running around - but he finally happens upon a door which looks promising. 

The room on the third floor (their house has three floors!) is nestled at the end of a small hallway. When he pokes his head inside, he practically feels the fireworks exploding inside of his brain. Bokuto flings his duffel bag to the floor and runs to the stairs, calling out for Akaashi to come up and see if he wants the room. Which, if he has working eyes and a brain, he totally will. 

Moments later, Akaashi is at the top of the stairs, breathing heavily. "I would have thought I'd be fine, what with my running," he puffs, "but those were very steep stairs."

Bokuto chuckles at the remark. "Here, let me grab your bag."

When Akaashi opens his mouth to protest, he shakes his head before grabbing the raven's duffel bag with one hand and his wrist with the other. Akaashi obliges, dutifully allowing himself to be tugged around the corner and down the hallway. 

"Prepare to have your socks wowed off!" Bokuto crows as they reach the door. He pushes it open, beaming. "Ta-da!"

Akaashi steps inside, and his eyes widen a fraction. "It's so nice in here."

It really is. Sunlight streams in from a skylight in the middle of a sloped ceiling, hitting the polished hardwood floor between two beds positioned next to each other. A wide window, its curtains swept to the sides, overlooks the lakefront; the walls are painted a light cream color, which is offset by the rich crimsons of the matching bedspreads. It's not too large, but it's surprisingly elegant (or not so surprisingly, since it's a mansion and thus has rich inhabitants). 

"You like?" Bokuto goads him, eyeing the raven for a positive reaction.

On cue, Akaashi nods, taking his duffel from Bokuto's grasp and dropping it beside one bed before flopping onto the duvet. He lets out a deep sigh as he sinks ever so slightly into the smooth material. "I like."

"Good!" Bokuto cheers. "Then no time to waste! Get changed, 'Kaashi, because I haven't been swimming in ages and I'm not missing a single second of time today!"

\-----

The 2:00 waves lap at the shore of the lake merrily, their rolling crashes flashing green and blue in the light of the hot sun. A sandpiper picks its way along the beach, using its beak to tip over the occasional pebble or pick into the ground below. It's warm; a day which would be deemed unbearable back home, with everyone hurrying from building to the next with hopes of shelter from the sweltering heat. But on the lake's shore, it's the perfect day.

"Yamaguchi," Bokuto hollers from his place thigh-deep in the water. It's cold, but the refreshing sort - there's no bone-deep chill. "You're totally gonna scorch yourself if you just sit on the sand like that all day! The water is so nice, you gotta come in - you too, Tsukki! Don't think I can't see you!"

The brunet seems to ponder for a moment before springing to his feet, sending bits of sand whizzing all over. He says something that Bokuto can't make out, and then Tsukishima is clambering to his feet as well, albeit with a grumble that Bokuto can most definitely hear. He grins to himself. 

"Incoming!" Hinata's voice rings from his left, and then he's smacked on the back of the head. He looks down in bewilderment amid the cackling laughter of someone in that direction - he suspects Tanaka, the ass - and is greeted by a beach ball bobbing merrily in the water. 

A quick toss in the air and a hit in their direction, and he hears Tanaka yelp. "Rude!"

He turns to see Tanaka scowling at the ball, seemingly having suffered a similar fate to Bokuto. Nishinoya is giggling madly. "Totally serves you right, dude. You know what they say about kar- _ma_!"

Tanaka, seemingly not in the mood to be needled by the shorter of the two, had taken it upon himself to duck below the surface of the water and yank Nishinoya's ankle out from under him. Nishinoya had, as planned, been yanked under, and with a rather unceremonious screech. They tussle in the water for a moment, spraying everyone in the immediate vicinity with droplets, before they both emerge, panting. 

"Deuce," they nod in tandem. 

Kenma and Oikawa seem to be content laying on the shore; the brunet is outstretched on a towel, quite intent on "bettering his tan," while Kenma is curled up in a white tank top and red shorts under an umbrella, content with watching the chaos unfolding in the water. 

Oikawa gets roughly ten minutes of "bettering" in before Iwaizumi seems to get bored of chucking rocks into the water (well, he was trying to skip them, but he wasn't particularly good at it) and elects to go haul Oikawa into the water with him. Oikawa, to his credit, puts up a valiant struggle, but as soon as Iwaizumi grabs him and slings him over his shoulder, he ceases his movements and allows himself to slump over. 

It's probably his screwy idea of a romantic moment - at least until Iwaizumi, with a shit-eating grin pasted across his face, dumps him right into the cold water. 

Ushijima and Daichi are in the middle of what seems to be a truly enthralling conversation, going by the generally placid expression on the taller man's face. He's kind of like that anyways, so it's not that much of a surprise; he could probably watch aliens land twenty feet in front of him and act completely chill about it. 

Then Daichi says something else with a chuckle, and it takes a moment, but some sort of something is working up Ushijima's face. It's slow and builds until he finally lets out a full laugh and a smile that reaches his eyes. Multiple people look over in vague surprise - Ushijima is not known for being particularly expressive - but really, Daichi is such an easygoing, likeable guy that he sort of coaxes it out of everyone. 

Out of habit, Bokuto glances around. His gaze immediately lands on Akaashi, who's now on his way back from the house after having gone to grab the cooler for everyone (because Akaashi is the world's best person). 

In an instant, he's bounding out of the water - splashing wildly as he goes - to help Akaashi drag the cooler over, as it's about the size of the raven's torso. "Here, let me help!"

Over his shoulder, he hears Suga murmur something to Kiyoko about him being "utterly whipped," to which she gives a small chuckle. He's right, of course, but a shred of subtlety wouldn't hurt. 

"Thanks, Bokuto-san," Akaashi smiles, and oh man, Bokuto is _struggling_ to keep his gaze above Akaashi's chin. 

A droplet of sweat traces its way down the smaller man's neck and onto a collarbone, pooling there to eventually dissipate into the air. He's wearing blue swim trunks and - Christ - no shirt, which, when you're as slender and strong as the raven is, can be an extremely dangerous combination. His skin is covered in a sheen of moisture from the heat and the way his shorts sit on his tapered hips is simply dangerous and-

-and he's staring. Lovely.

"Anytime!" Bokuto half-wheezes, half shouts, all too exuberant. "Wanna go sit for a few?"

Akaashi nods as a dozen heat-stricken young adults all zero in on a cooler containing ice-cold drinks and popsicles. Before they can all lunge for it, he holds up a hand for them to pause so he can reach into the cooler (and is successful, somehow; they would never do the same for Bokuto). "Drink, popsicle, or both?"

Bokuto gapes, still reeling from the fact that seemingly everyone seems to admire his friend on some sort of subconscious level. "Uh, a soda would be nice."

Dutifully, Akaashi pulls out a soda, still shiny with droplets of condensation, and hands it over. He reaches in again, and to Bokuto's delight and utter horror, pulls out a popsicle. 

Fucking hell, this boy is going to kill him.

They find a spot under an abandoned umbrella, relishing in the shade cast by its covering. Bokuto's toes dig into the heated sand as he shakes some off of his hand, not wanting to get any in his drink. Beside him, Akaashi settles onto a striped towel, pulling his knees up a bit to better unwrap his popsicle. It's a bright orange color, probably tastes like some tropical fruit, and is already melting in the midday heat, its icy-sweet syrup traveling slowly down Akaashi's wrist. 

"Your popsicle - it's, ah-" Bokuto stammers, and opts to point at where the popsicle is dripping down the raven's hand. 

Akaashi looks around for a moment, probably searching for a napkin; there are none, probably because the universe sucks and hates Bokuto. So, as any human would, he goes to lick it off of his wrist. The orange color is swept up by the flat of his tongue, which leaves the tiniest glimmer of spit in its place as Akaashi quickly licks up his wrist and fingers. If Bokuto was a less subtle man, he would probably clap a hand over his eyes, but that would be a bit difficult to explain. He instead chooses to stare very intently at the sand to his right. 

"Thanks again," Akaashi says lightly, and then licks a long stripe up the length of the popsicle. 

Bokuto's gaze zips away from the form to his left and stares unblinkingly at the lake's surface. "No problem," he chokes out, "anytime."

They continue like this for some time; while Akaashi is typically somewhat of a very intense eater when snacking, he seems to be conspiring with the universe by eating his popsicle as slow as humanly possible. Bokuto would probably be less unnerved if he just started taking huge bites of it to make it go faster. Unfortunately, this does not happen. 

It's also a very messy endeavor. While Bokuto is frantically tugging his brain away from the Mind Gutter, hauling it away from the pit with huge, lurching steps, Akaashi's popsicle melts away under the sun. It sends droplets coursing down the pale skin of his forearm, where they are quickly lapped up by Akaashi's tongue. It's terrible.

After what is entirely too long, Akaashi finally sets the barren popsicle stick to the side with a satisfied sigh. He lays back on the towel, looking up at the umbrella, and Bokuto feels compelled to do the same. He takes a final sip of his soda for the time being, not particularly wanting to spill it all over his chest later. 

They lay there for a little while, quiet. It's another one of those rare moments where Bokuto feels no real compulsion to speak; he's entirely content with just basking in Akaashi's company. He can hear the slow intake and exhale of breath next to him, and closes his eyes with a small smile. 

True to his nature, however, these silences tend to be rather short-lived. A moment of brilliance strikes Bokuto like a lightning bolt. It's one of those things that any person in their right mind would groan and shake their head at, but instead, he simply allows for a wide grin to spread across his face. He rolls over to face Akaashi, who glances at him and then does the same. 

"Hey, 'Kaashi," he begins, "how did one fish confess to the other fish?"

Akaashi cocks his head, which would usually look a bit weird on a person who's laying on their side, but is instead ridiculously cute. "I don't know. How?"

"I lake you a lot." 

As soon as it's out of his mouth, he cringes. That has to be one of the top five Worst Bokuto Puns out there. It's not even remotely funny. This is furthered by Akaashi's momentary silence, which grows more painful with every passing second.

And then: a snicker. 

It grows in volume until Akaashi is giggling, bringing up an arm to muffle his voice. Bokuto can't help it - his laughter really is infectious - and against all odds chuckles in spite of himself. This only causes Akaashi to laugh harder, propping himself up on an elbow. 

"That's so-" he gasps between bursts of laughter - "so fucking stupid."

He collapses into another bout of near-hysterics, and somehow they haven't even begun to lessen at all. Bokuto is, at this point, also enveloped in laughter. "I know, right?"

They continue like this - the laughter abating every now and then, only for them to make eye contact and dissolve into more giggles - for another minute or so. At this point, they're not even laughing because of the joke; rather, they send each other into bouts of giggles unprompted. 

And, as if the gods decided that it would for once be worth it to smile down upon Bokuto's poor soul, Akaashi laughs so hard that he snorts. His eyes immediately widen and a hand slaps over his mouth and nose as he stares at Bokuto, only for Bokuto to stare back, a winning smile quickly etching its way across his mouth.

"Did you just-"

"No, I did _not_ -"

And Bokuto beams so widely that his face is likely to split at the seams. "You did!" 

Akaashi scrambles to his feet, looking down with wild eyes that crackle with mirth. "Tell anyone and I swear, I won't cook for you for a whole week."

"I'd like to see you try!" Bokuto springs to his feet too, taking only a moment to shoot a teasing wink in his direction before he's tearing down the sand and into the water. He frantically begins to wade out, hearing Akaashi mere feet behind him. "Kuroo, guess wha-"

A heavy force collides with him mid-sentence, sending him sprawling into the water. 

"No!" Akaashi barks, before Bokuto grabs at his arm and tugs him into the water too. He claws his way to the surface, sputtering, and narrows his eyes. "Oh, you are so going to get it."

Bokuto sticks out his tongue defiantly. "C'mon and try it, bud! I'll always know your dirty little secr-" 

He's cut off again by Akaashi plowing into him and sending them both into the water, laughing between gasps of air.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i was initially planning on cramming the whole lake trip into one chapter, but i started running with the idea and this already became way longer than planned, so i'm definitely splitting this into two bits. sorry this one took ages - finals week kicked my ass to hell and back and then christmas ensured that i had zero free time - but this was a fun one to write. now that i'm on break for another week or so, i plan on cranking out the next chapter before second semester starts!! super psyched for that. 
> 
> i want to thank everyone who's supported me so far, and promise that i'll keep up my energy in this coming year. (after all, we're a long ways from the end of this story!) i love you all endlessly and appreciate your kindness to no end. 
> 
> the happiest of holidays to you! :)


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which everybody socializes and plays a game of hide-and-seek.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> woohoo! uploading ten minutes before school starts. just barely made my self-imposed deadline!

The group leaves the beach while the sun is still up, around 6:00, feet covered in sand and noses tinted red along the bridges. Easy, meaningless chatter flows easily between them as they make the short walk back to the house, everyone eager to shower off the day's residue.

Inside, the mansion is pleasantly cool. Their shoes are left in long rows and piles near the door and each person makes extra sure that no sand is tracked inside (particularly because nobody wants to sweep a house that size very much). Bokuto, still overflowing with energy, bounds up the stairs two at a time.

He lets his roommate shower first and is then rewarded with the sight of a soft, clean Akaashi gently toweling off his still-damp hair as he steps out of the bathroom. He's dressed in a loose-fitting cotton tee and black sweatpants, and Bokuto's heart skips a beat when he notices the tiny droplets of water that cling to the tips of inky locks of hair.

"Thank you for letting me go first," Akaashi says, rubbing the back of his neck. He tilts his head to one side, allowing for a full view of pale, unblemished skin. "I needed that."

"No problem," Bokuto squeaks, hastily grabbing a change of clothes and clutching them to his chest.

When he's done showering - skin hastily scrubbed clean to the point of a pink tinge across his chest and shoulders - he slips on a gray shirt and a soft pair of red shorts that he just knows Kuroo is going to tease him about (as always) because they're "so short - trying to accentuate your figure?"

As to be expected, he hears a litany of voices when he reaches the first floor again. Almost everyone is piled into the gigantic living room: some are crammed onto couches, others lay on the floor, and more still crowd around a large wooden table near the open kitchen area. A giant flatscreen TV is mounted on the wall above the fireplace, playing some old movie from the 80s which Bokuto can't quite place.

He immediately catches sight of Oikawa perched on the edge of a couch, chattering happily with Iwaizumi beside him. Every now and then, Oikawa will look down at where Iwaizumi sits and bat his eyelashes, undoubtedly delivering subtle (but in no way genuine) jabs at his eyebrows or choice of clothing. In response, Iwaizumi always barks back a snarky retort, sometimes trying to shove him off of the couch's edge, but the poorly-hidden fondness in his gaze betrays a lack of sincerity.

Bokuto pads over to the duo. "Lover's quarrel?"

"He wishes. Not quite there yet," Oikawa tuts, to which Iwaizumi growls a warning. "Fine, fine. He's just being prickly because he thinks I reek of cologne, which I totally do not, by the way."

"Dude, just lean in and take a whiff of his twenty-seven layers of 'Coconut Dream,' and you'll see what I mean."

"Let me be the objective third party!" Bokuto declares, and does as Iwaizumi asks. Almost immediately, the smell of coconut and vanilla invades his nose, rich and cloying. He wrinkles his nose as he pulls away. "Oikawa, you know I love you, but did you _bathe_ in this stuff?"

Oikawa squawks in vehement protest. "No! Your nose is probably just too sensitive or something, and Iwa-chan loves to bicker. He's antagonizing me."

"I'll show you 'antagonizing-'" Iwaizumi bites, and lunges at his friend, hands outstretched. Oikawa immediately bolts up and flattens against a wall. "Oh c'mon, Scaredy-kawa, come give your buddy a hug!"

"No way! You're gonna maul me or something!"

"And wouldn't you love that?" Bokuto crows, relishing in the matching glares sent his way. "You know it's true!"

"He's right," Suga sing-songs from the floor a few feet away.

Oikawa scowls. "As if you're any better with Daichi, loverboy!"

Suga grins smugly, the whites of his teeth glinting in the soft overhead lighting. "Oh, I'm well aware. Takes one to know one, you feel me?"

A snicker escapes Bokuto's mouth, and if he gets one more look from Oikawa he'll probably drop dead. He waves a hasty goodbye, to which a certain brunet sticks out his tongue, and pads away to seek out Kuroo.

After a minute or two of searching, he finds his friend lodged up against a wall in the kitchen, leaning rather close to a stony-faced Tsukishima. The blond adjusts his glasses with one hand, and the rims catch the light for a moment.

"-totally woo your little friend over there," Kuroo says as Bokuto comes into range, jabbing a thumb over to a couple of plush chairs. Bokuto is pretty sure who said friend is, but glances over regardless to see Yamaguchi talking animatedly with Yachi and Hinata.

Tsukishima's ears redden a fraction at the tips. "I have no idea what you mean."

Kuroo smiles, lips tipping up victoriously at the corners. "I mean that it's perfectly obvious how badly you want to do the nasty with Freckles-kun!"

"I don't want to do anything of the sort with him," the blond snaps, but the blush has spread across the apples of his cheeks and his voice is a harsh whisper. "Don't be weird."

"Yeah, Kuroo, be nice!" Bokuto grins, and watches with glee as Tsukishima's head hangs even lower at the sound of his voice; he obviously knows that he's in for more teasing now. He slings an arm around the taller man's shoulders, jostling him with the movement. "Our Tsukki here wants to do much more than that. He's a gentleman, see? He wants to do cute things like hold hands, take a walk in the park, maybe kiss under the sta-"

Tsukishima scowls at the ground, picking viciously at a cuticle. "Did you never flesh out your volume control skills or are you just being this loud on purpose?"

"A little of both, I guess," Bokuto chuckles. "So, buddy, be honest: do you or do you not want to romance our lovely Yamaguchi over there?"

Kuroo's eyebrows arch in anticipation, but as the seconds stretch longer and longer with no response his face falls flat. Bokuto sighs; they all know fully well how very interested the blond is in his roommate-turned-crush, but his unwillingness to admit the damn thing had been going on for ages.

Then, a sly smirk spreads across Kuroo's face. Bokuto cheers internally - whenever he gets a look like that on his face right now, it's because he's devised some sort of master plan, and Kuroo Tetsurou is nothing if not often successful.

"So if you don't, then I guess it wouldn't matter that I know a guy who's been eyeing him for a few weeks, right?" Kuroo begins. Tsukishima's head jerks up, though he attempts to mask it with an eyeroll. "I mean, from what he told me, it kind of sounded like he was going to ask him out soon, so if he's single, I should tell him."

The blond's face is now about twelve shades of red. Bokuto briefly considers painting an accent wall in his future room a rich shade of Raspberry Truffle - it looks truly magnificent on Tsukishima - before deciding that it'd probably be too dark.

After a long moment, he sets his jaw and stares Kuroo down, his gaze then flickering to Bokuto. It sparks with an air of defiance. "Tell your friend to find someone else."

"Absolutely will do!" Kuroo beams, clapping him eagerly on the shoulder.

Bokuto jostles him back and forth in support. "Glad to see that you're taking initiative, bro! Confidence can be your greatest tool - or at least, that's what my mom used to say."

Tsukishima wriggles out from under their combined body weight and leans a few feet away. His eyes narrow as they scan over the two men standing before him. "If you repeat a word of that to Tadashi, you're dead."

"Wouldn't dream of it," Bokuto swears, bringing his index finger across his chest in an 'x.'

"As if I'd ever!" Kuroo chimes at the same time. He shoots a wink at the blind, who cringes visibly. "For what it's worth, he would have turned the guy down anyways. Something tells me that he has eyes for one person only."

"Good," Tsukishima says flatly, watching solemnly as Bokuto crosses his heart a second time for good measure. Then, with what's likely a trick of the light but could possibly, just maybe be a twitch of the lips: "and thanks. I hope so."

Kuroo grins victoriously. "So it's Tadashi now, is it?"

"Fuck off!"

\-----

"Say, Bokuto-san, think you can catch this grape in your mouth?"

Bokuto tips his chin up and crosses his arms. "Like you even need to ask. Watch and learn, baby!"

Dutifully, Hinata tosses the grape up in the air, and Bokuto watches as it sails above his head. He positions himself to be under it, opens his mouth, and yelps as it lands right between his eyes. "Ow!"

"Nice form," Asahi remarks, "but you were a little off."

"Ya think?" Bokuto rubs at the area of impact and grimaces down at the grape on the ground. He picks it up and with a bit more aggression than is probably necessary, flings it into the sink with a _splat_.

Hinata fishes around in the bag of grapes once more. "Want to try again?"

"Hell yeah! I'm getting it this time!"

True to his word, he does indeed catch the grape in his mouth. He bows amidst Hinata's wild applause, glancing up as he bends at the waist to see if a certain someone caught his feat. Golden eyes meet blue-green ones, and he quickly steers his gaze back down to the ground. When he straightens, he sees Akaashi giving him a couple of appreciative claps as well and beams.

The sky outside is finally dark, the last rays of sun having slipped behind the horizon, but the lights around the patio twinkle merrily outside of the large glass sliding door. Empty beer cans sit in the trash can, though many more find residence on the table and various flat surfaces around the room.

A different movie plays now, though to Bokuto's chagrin, he doesn't know this one either. The colors are bright and playful, a 1983-esque homage to summer, carefree and childish in the bright greens and blues that decorate each background. He watches for a moment as a boy in shorts, his knees covered in multicolored band-aids, goes tearing up a narrow street to fetch a friend wearing a yellow bucket hat. He's briefly reminded of his own childhood summers, spent catching small crabs with Toshiko and decorating sidewalks with chalk alongside Wakumi.

Roaring laughter rings from a few feet away, voices loosened by cheap beer and a full day at the lakeshore.

"Tanaka, you have to thank your sister for grabbing this stuff for us," Nishinoya calls, and a round of whoops behind him profess their agreement.

The short-haired man grins broadly. "Absolutely will do. She's a lifesaver, I'm telling you."

Their conversation fades into the buzz of voices once more, and Bokuto wanders off to another corner to Tendou, who's leaning his head on Ushijima's shoulder at what has to be a ridiculously uncomfortable angle. His eyes are bright and wild as ever, though, so it seems that his neck is no bother.

The redhead's eyebrows shoot up to his hairline when his gaze falls on Bokuto, face stretching into a gleaming smile. "How goes it?"

"Well! I just absolutely annihilated the grape toss move, so I'm feeling pretty solid right now."

"Aw, man." Tendou's mouth drops into a flat line, his nose scrunching. "I've always been so shit at that. You'd think I'd have fine coordination, given my major and all, but once the grape is in the air it always nails me in one eye or the other."

Tendou, an aspiring surgeon, was one of the brightest biology majors that Bokuto knew. Hell, he was probably one of the brightest biology majors in the whole department, gifted with not only incredible hand-eye coordination but an almost infallible sense of intuition. He was, according to others in his major, able to analyze situations in a split-second and immediately pick out any present issues.

Unfortunately, in such a competitive field a lot of the others didn't take kindly to repeatedly being shown up by a classmate, particularly one with such a striking outward appearance. Bokuto had heard him referred to as a "freak" both to his face and behind his back multiple times by others, and it always left Bokuto's blood boiling. Tendou, however, didn't seem fazed in the slightest regard; he would simply shoot them a toothy grin and saunter off.

Eventually, Tendou earned the nickname "Guess Monster," due to his seemingly supernatural abilities of prediction. Actually, it had started off as just another jab, a stupid comment made by another classmate that had spread like wildfire throughout their department. In true Tendou fashion, he adopted it as his own: a mark of pride, so to speak, a constant reminder of his own abilities. So it stuck; Tendou "Guess Monster" Satori had yet to allow the jeers of the jealous outside world to break his stride, and by Bokuto's estimates, he never would.

(For his birthday, Bokuto had doodled him in front of a giant banner with the words "Guess Monster" emblazoned in purple, his hands on his hips and a giant smile across his face. He'd even added a little crown on top. Tendou had pinned it to his wall in his room back home.)

"Maybe you're just better at things when you perform them hands-on," Ushijima says thoughtfully, head cocked to one side.

Tendou shrugs. "You're probably right. But maybe Bokuto here would want to teach me sometime anyways, just so I can have a fun party trick."

"Hell yeah!" Bokuto crows, and gives the redhead a high-five. "You'll be a champ in no time."

They talk idly as a half hour ticks by. Bokuto grabs them all another beer, enjoying the tiny fizzing sound that escapes his can as he cracks the tab open. At some point, Tendou's posture shifts even further until he's essentially slouching back against Ushijima's chest. The taller of the two still appears unbothered - in fact, one might even guess at contentment, going by the soft gaze he gives the head of red hair below his chin.

Bokuto tells them about his visit home, and Tendou makes him agree to let him meet Toshiko someday because she "sounds super cool." He cheers animatedly when Bokuto acquiesces, the tips of his spiky hair brushing Ushijima's face with his bouncing movements, and subsequently flops back, which causes the brunet to stumble.

Tendou cranes his neck and peers upward. "Sorry, Wakatoshi-kun! Am I heavy?"

"Not at all," Ushijima reassures him.

"Okie dokie, but if you ever need to sit down or want me to stop clambering all over you, let me know, yeah?"

"I will."

"Pinky promise?" Tendou stretches a hand upward, pinky finger stuck out. 

Ushijima sighs, but it's without annoyance. He takes the pinky with his own. "Yes. Pinky promise."

Satisfied, the redhead settles back against his chest, though he's more gentle with the motion than before. He closes his eyes, eyelashes fluttering contentedly, and hums a quiet tune that's barely audible over the room's chatter. Something in Bokuto goads him to find someone else to talk to - these two are obviously having some sort of odd moment - and so he bids the pair a cheerful goodbye.

He finds Akaashi sitting with Kuroo and Kenma in a triangle on the floor, his legs crossed and a can of beer to his left. Even from a few paces away, Bokuto can make out a faint blush across his face, tinted red from the alcohol. Truthfully, he's been trying to give Akaashi some space tonight; he sometimes has the tendency to crowd people he's interested in and really, really doesn't want to fuck this one up like he has so many times before.

However, he's not exactly the most patient of people, and Akaashi is sort of totally his best friend, so Bokuto gives up on the idea of reserving himself to longing gazes all night and pads over.

"Bo!" Kuroo greets him, raising his can in the air. His words slur ever so slightly. "How's my main man doing?"

Bokuto raises his own in kind. "Doing great!"

He plops down next to Akaashi, who scoots to the side to make room to sit between him and Kenma. The half-blond leans back against Kuroo's legs. His own knees nearly knock against Akaashi's, only an inch or two apart. Bokuto glances to his right and his breath catches when his eyes meet those of his roommate; he's sure that the tips of his ears are beginning to redden from the close proximity, but he's not sure if Akaashi's grown more flushed or if the alcohol is beginning to get to his brain.

Kuroo clicks his tongue, snapping his focus away (and probably in the nick of time, too - any longer and he would have definitely started off a conversation about catching grapes in one's mouth and then headed off to go smash his head with a brick). "Look over there."

Bokuto follows where his thumb is jabbed over his shoulder, and feels a beaming grin work its way across his mouth when he sees a familiar head of blond hair. Tsukishima's back looks stiffer than a wooden board, and his mouth is pressed into his usual half-scowl, but his gaze is warm as he looks down at the brunet slumped against him on the couch. Yamaguchi chatters happily with Suga, who sits on the floor below, but every now and then he shifts and presses his cheek closer against Tsukishima's shoulder.

He looks back at Kuroo, who's face is twisted into a victorious smirk. "Mission success! I think."

Akaashi clears his throat. "Wanna fill us in?"

"Not me," Kenma murmurs helpfully. "Kuroo told me earlier."

The raven rolls his eyes and raises a brow in Bokuto's direction. "Well, since I'm the only one out of the loop, I guess it's something that I shouldn't be privy to."

"Akaashi," Bokuto whines, "don't be mean!"

He's given nothing but silence in return. His roommate is no stranger to the art of guilt tripping Bokuto by now, and Christ, if Akaashi isn't a master at it. It's all in good fun - the raven's eyes glimmer with mirth, betraying his true feelings - but Bokuto still loathes being ignored.

"Akaashi! I haven't even talked to you for like an hour and a half!"

Akaashi sniffs. "So I've noticed."

"Oh, now you're laying it on thick! Kuroo, tell him that I'm not trying to leave him out!" Bokuto wails.

Kuroo shrugs, but he shoots a nasty grin in Bokuto's direction. "I dunno what to tell you, my man. I mean, I told Kenma right away-"

"-I asked you about it because you wear your thoughts all over your face."

"Same difference."

"You're all awful," Bokuto grimaces. "Okay, 'Kaashi, if I tell you, will you stop being mad at me?"

Akaashi pauses for a moment, tapping an index finger to his chin thoughtfully. After what seems to be careful deliberation (during which time Bokuto begins to practically sweat bullets), he nods.

So Bokuto gives him a quick run-down of the situation, pausing every now and then to take a swig of his beer. His fingertips feel light and his head filled with a light layer of cotton; he's had enough to drink for now, doesn't want to be blackout drunk. ( _Because it'll be embarrassing in front of Akaashi_ , he reminds himself, and sets the can down to finish the story.) But he's a little giddier than usual, laughs a bit louder and smiles a little wider.

Afterwards, Akaashi decides to start acknowledging him, though it begins with a light punch to the shoulder. "Next time, keep me posted on stuff, Bokuto-san."

"Ow!" Bokuto mock-cries, but beams. "Will do!"

He's about to say something else - he's not sure what, really, as it was sure to be pointless and nothing more than an excuse to talk to the man beside him - when a voice pipes up amidst the background chatter.

"Alright, ladies and gents, our pal Hinata here has an idea!" Tanaka barks, and hauls the redhead up off the floor by an elbow.

Hinata squeaks at the jolt, but dutifully gets to his feet. "Oh! Well, it wasn't really my idea - Yachi thought of it first-"

At this, the tiny blonde sinks lower onto the floor so as to avoid a roomful of gazes.

"-but it would be kind of fun to play hide-and-seek with this huge house, right? I mean, it would take ages to find like twenty people, so we could play in teams or something!" He grins proudly at the small sea of slightly-buzzed college students.

The room is quiet for a moment, and it looks like he's about to awkwardly sit down (or, knowing Hinata, cough out a rambling apology). Except that Bokuto likes the idea - he's right, after all, most of them couldn't even dream of being in a house this huge again for ages, and he was always great at hide-and-seek as a kid - so he raises a hand elementary school-style with an "I'll play!"

After him, Daichi's voice sounds from another corner. "Why not?"

"Yeah! I'll totally be the winner!" Tendou cheers.

Soon, everyone is chorusing their support for the idea, while Hinata grins widely at them each in turn. He leans down to poke a still-curled up Yachi, who peeks her face out with a wavering smile. "Nice idea," Bokuto hears him whisper, and she nods eagerly.

"It's decided, then!" Tanaka says loudly. "We'll all pair off and each pair has to hide within, say, twenty feet of one another. You can be in separate rooms, like on other sides of a wall, but no running off in opposite directions. Any volunteers to be the first seeker, since we have an odd number?"

Nishinoya volunteers with a shout, and while it seems that nobody else is vying for his position, it's well-known that the brunet possesses a ridiculous amount of energy and would refuse to quit until he'd found everyone.

They then pair off, and for the most part, it's a lot of givens. Bokuto quickly latches an arm onto Akaashi, who makes no move to shake him off, and Kuroo hauls Kenma to his feet, snatching away his PSP.

A timer is set for two minutes and Nishinoya assumes a roost on top of the counter, closing his eyes as everyone scatters in various directions. Bokuto grabs onto Akaashi's arm and quickly tugs him out of the room. He points up the stairs, where everyone else is scrambling to get to the higher levels, but Akaashi presses a finger to his lips and jerks his head in the direction of a hallway that Bokuto hadn't been down yet.

He lets his roommate lead the way, taking him to the second room from the end of the hall. It's smaller than theirs, but not by very much; a four-poster bed with white drapes sits with the headboard against one wall, and heavy curtains block out sun from a large window. Expensive furniture decorates the rest of the room, and the broke-ass college student in Bokuto sighs. _Rich people_.

"Nice place," he whispers to Akaashi, who is quietly closing the door behind them. "Are we gonna hide out under the bed or something?"

Akaashi shakes his head, and takes Bokuto by the wrist. His heart does not flutter at the contact. Not one bit. He leads them both over to a large closet (a fucking walk-in closet, of course), and closes that door behind them too, tugging on an overhead chain that flicks on a light bulb. The closet is mostly empty, save for some storage bins. Bokuto then notices a smallish square in the wall with a handle poking out.

"Down here," he whispers, and his voice even sounds nice when he does that, which is so unfair. He grabs onto the handle and pulls, revealing a second (likely even smaller) chamber.

Bokuto's eyes grow wide. "Holy shit, 'Kaashi," he breathes. "Not even a full day here and you found a secret room."

Akaashi huffs out a small chuckle, reaching an arm in and patting along the inside wall until a light blinks to life. "Not a secret room. Just an extra storage area."

"Still!" Bokuto protests, but a sharp look from Akaashi reminds him to keep his voice down. He mimes zipping his lips shut. "Message received."

"I'll go in first," Akaashi says, and Bokuto nods quickly.

He gets on his hands and knees (which, by the way, sends a litany of very inappropriate thoughts barreling through Bokuto's head at breakneck speed), and crawls inside. Bokuto watches with rapt attention, not sure whether he wishes he was blind (for the sake of his honor) or had a photographic memory (for the sake of, well, Akaashi's ass). He's then beckoned inside and crawls in afterward.

It's a tight fit, to say the least. Bokuto squeezes through the door and tugs it shut behind him, leaving the two of them in a small room that isn't much more than a broom closet. It's pretty clean, with no cobwebs or thick layers of dust, but the thought of whatever might be crawling along the floorboards sends shivers up his spine.

"Hey, 'Kaashi," he mutters, "do you think there are spiders in here?"

Akaashi peers around the tiny room. He looks over at Bokuto with a shrug. "Maybe."

This does nothing to improve Bokuto's condition. "That was totally unhelpful! Can you at least lie next time?"

"Noted."

Bokuto shifts as much as he can, which isn't saying a whole lot. He and Akaashi are pressed basically shoulder to shoulder, their knees knocking together and their backs pressed up against the wall facing the door.

"D'you think Noya will find us quickly?"

"No. He'll go upstairs and probably catch everyone on those floors first. They were loud going up the stairs and he'll try to get a lot of people to start."

Bokuto ponders this before nodding appreciatively. "Yeah, I can see how he'd want to start out strong. I would be the same way."

A minute passes; then about five; then roughly ten. It's filled with the odd conversation, a little bit looser than normal. Both of them have enough alcohol in their systems to open them up - Akaashi is chattier than he typically is, and Bokuto is quicker to poke fun (he usually gets too caught up in the delivery and whether or not Akaashi will think it's clever to actually say any of it).

They can hear when people are caught. Nishinoya always whoops loud enough for the entire house to hear, secret closet or not, and then the losing pair comes tromping down the stairs. So far, three pairs have been caught. Unsurprisingly, Hinata and Kageyama were the first to be found - this is immediately evident from the sounds of their bickering as they stomp their way across the floor.

It becomes clear that they'll be there for a while, so Bokuto asks Akaashi to guess where people chose to hide. His first answer comes without hesitation: that Iwaizumi and Oikawa are definitely making out in a closet. Bokuto laughs and tells him that even those two aren't _that_ risque, that they're probably squished under a bed somewhere, and bets him a peanut that he's wrong.

Akaashi accepts the wager.

Another five minutes creep by.

"Okay," Bokuto whisper-announces, "I'm bored. Let's play Truth or Dare."

"Truth or Dare?"

"Yeah, you know, like when-"

"No, no, I know what it is, but how many dares can you do inside a room the size of a broom closet?"

Bokuto ponders this for a moment. "I'm sure we can think of something. Okay, okay! You ask first!"

"Ah, alright," Akaashi begins. "Truth or dare?"

"Truth!"

Akaashi purses his lips, eyes narrowing a fraction. "Okay, what's one thing you want to do before the school year ends?"

"That isn't a very fun question, 'Kaashi!"

"Would you rather I stay silent?"

"No, no! Let me think!"

He eventually ends up spewing some bullshit about getting an A on a math exam. Of course, he would like to do that, but he can think of many more (Akaashi-centric) things he hopes will happen over the course of the year's remainder.

Then he asks Akaashi, who of course chooses "truth," and his stupid idiot twelve-year-old brain loses all thoughts present. "Uh."

"That's a really great question, Bokuto-san. Very multi-faceted."

"Shut up! I've got a really great multi-fauceted one, just you wait!"

"Multi-faceted."

"Right, that!"

He basically asks the first question that comes to mind, something equally basic and boring, which Akaashi gives a basic and boring answer to. Bokuto then decides to go out on a limb and choose "dare," because he's effortlessly cool and guys that are effortlessly cool do not only choose "truth" while playing Truth or Dare.

It seems that Akaashi has decided to make his point regarding their abilities to perform dares, because when Bokuto is told to attempt a handstand, he grimaces. "Do you see how much room I have, Akaashi?"

"You were the one insistent on trying dares," the raven muses, and his scowl deepens at the challenge.

"Fine! I'll try a handstand, see?"

He hauls himself to his feet and nearly bangs his head on the ceiling. A groan escapes his lips when he looks down to find that there is barely three feet of space in front of him, but he leans down to press his arms to the floor, kicks a leg up, and in doing so nearly knees Akaashi in the face and then presents him with an eyeful of his crotch. The raven attempts to flatten himself against the wall further.

"Ah, shit, sorry - let me just-" he stutters, his face aflame, and brings his leg down. This time, it comes even closer to Akaashi's face, but it is once again masterfully dodged. "Ack, jeez - I'm sorry - fuck!"

He plops down next to Akaashi with a sigh.

"Do you see our issue now?"

He heaves another deep sigh, letting his shoulders slump back against the wall. "Yeah. Might I interest you in a game of Truth or Truth?"

"You may."

"Truth or Truth?"

"I think I'll go with the latter."

And then in a flash of genius (or just a ridiculous urge from the back of the brain of a buzzed college second-year), the perfect question pops into his head. "When was your last kiss?"

The head of black hair turns to face him, gaze incredulous. "My last kiss?"

"Uh, yes?" Bokuto's feeling a little less like a genius and more like a drunken idiot by the second. "Unless you don't want to answer, since that's pretty personal. Actually, let me think of another question!"

He's waved off with a lazy hand. "No, it's fine. I think it was, hmm, maybe four or so months back? Wow, that makes it sound like ages ago."

Never mind. Bokuto is the World's Greatest Genius. He should get a parade; fuck it, he deserves his own damn holiday. Akaashi Keiji - potentially the prettiest man on the face of the whole planet - hasn't kissed anyone in four whole months, and the implications of this send his mind reeling.

"It doesn't, I promise! I haven't in ages, either!" Bokuto sputters, cogs in his brain turning a mile a minute. Then, to press his luck: "Was it good?"

Akaashi quirks an eyebrow. "That's more than one question."

Damn, he was good. Bokuto, not one to be deterred, resolves to ask this next.

"But, to answer it anyways, it was just alright. No fanfare," Akaashi admits with a small laugh.

Scratch that, Bokuto has to be at least the Solar System's Greatest Genius. Maybe even the Universe's Greatest Genius. Akaashi's last kiss was not only four months ago, but it was just okay - and not to brag, but Bokuto's kisses are never "just alright." They always have fanfare. He's got the _moves_.

"Ah," he croaks, vocal chords too busy singing praises to the heavens to properly function. "Coolio."

There's a shift next to him; it's tiny, and would be nearly imperceptible if it wasn't for the fact that they're already touching. But they are, so he can feel the raven's leg press a little bit closer to his, and his fuzzy brain sparks to life, heart beating at a rabbit-like pace.

"Truth or Truth?" Akaashi asks, and his voice alone sends embers into Bokuto's chest. It's a fraction deeper, quieter.

Bokuto swallows. Hard. "Truth."

"How was your last kiss?"

 _Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit, holy SHIT_ -

While Bokuto may not be the smoothest guy on the planet, he's nearly ninety-five percent sure that a new sort of air has surrounded them. It's tense, in the best way possible. He feels his heart beating a staccato pattern into his veins, his brain whirling as it's pleasantly dulled by cheap beer, his fingertips dancing along the creases of the wooden floor.

"It was nothing special," he lies.

It was a fine kiss. It was nice. But he didn't feel half of the butterflies in his stomach that he feels right now, so how could it possibly measure up to what this swirling cyclone is inside of his lungs?

Akaashi's leg presses closer, and with it, Bokuto's presses back. Signal received, loud and clear. Their shoulders brush. "That's a shame. I'm sorry to hear it."

"It's fine," Bokuto breathes, torn between wanting so desperately to whip his head around and see the raven's expression - his lips - for himself and wanting to preserve whatever the hell this moment is. "There'll be others."

"Oh?"

It's a syllable. One single sound, laden with lingering possibility, chock-full of unspoken promises. _I can be better. I can do far better than they did_. At least, Bokuto hopes that's the message he's trying to convey. And so, despite every muscle in his body screaming at him to stay still, he turns his head.

His eyes catch Akaashi's, and they glitter in a way that is wholly new. It's not any one emotion that he sees reflected in the green-blue pools but a collection of them, and he isn't able to place a single one. His dark hair has never looked softer, never looked so wispy and lovely. His lips are a dusty shade of pink, complemented by the faint blush across the apples of his cheeks, and now Bokuto is sure that it's for reasons other than the alcohol.

Then, inexplicably, they inch closer.

So, not one to be outdone, he does too.

They're a fraction apart, no more than a couple of inches. He can feel soft puffs of breath ghosting across his lips with every exhale. If either of them shift forward, they'll be kissing, and oh god it's what Bokuto's been yearning for, dreaming of, for months. Yet, somehow, this isn't a dream; Akaashi isn't a spectre that will disappear when his alarm beeps in the morning - no, he's here, so real, and so close.

So who is Bokuto to wait any longer?

He's about to close the gap, about to press his lips to Akaashi's, finally do what he's been waiting to do for far too long. He steels himself, inhales deeply, sets his shoulders and-

-and the door comes swinging open.

They both fling themselves backward as far as they can. Bokuto shakes his fist at the universe, because it's evidently evil and it fucking sucks.

"Gotcha!" Nishinoya crows. "Come on out, winners!"

"Did you hear that, 'Kaashi? We won," Bokuto nearly cries.

\-----

As he comes stomping out, Kuroo shoots him a questioning glare.

 _Tell you later_ , he mouths, lip quirked in a half-scowl, and prepares himself to face the inevitable bouts of laughter to follow.

It turned out that Nishinoya had indeed come across Oikawa and Iwaizumi making out in a closet. They sit side by side on a couch, shooting the shorter man death glares as he grins slyly at them.

"Really classy guys, seriously," he chirps. "I mean, imagine my surprise when I'm idly poking around a bedroom and boom! A whimper from the closet! Wild, no?"

"One of these days, I'll smother you in your sleep, shortstack."

"Who're you calling _shortstack_?" Nishinoya screeches.

"I still think you should have come to the third floor," Ushijima interjects helpfully.

Oikawa nearly shrieks. "You've said that like, twelve million times already! I know!"

Sighing, Bokuto hands Akaashi a peanut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> do you hate me for that? i would hate me for that. anyways, i hope this chapter was kinda fun! i enjoyed writing it - so much, actually, that i pounded out like half of it last night alone. 
> 
> also!!! we broke 400 kudos! which, if you think of each as a "nice job!" is a lot of "nice job!"s. so i'm pretty stoked. kicking off the new year right, i think. anyways, thank you all for the love and support, and happy new year!


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which bokuto attends another party and akaashi wears earrings (sort of).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just as a quick warning: 
> 
> there is a very quick mention of someone worrying that someone else is potentially being taken advantage of at a party. it does not actually happen and the moment is very brief, but for those who would prefer to skip those couple of lines or could potentially be triggered by such things: skip the one paragraph that begins with "Akaashi isn't in the kitchen..." 
> 
> after that, you should be back on track and good to go!

(2:39) so like what do you think?? should i do smth or nah???

(2:39) Kuroo: _i'm tellin u bro go fr it_

(2:39) Kuroo: _nobody leans in for a kiss if they don't like the other guy_

(2:40) but what if i was wrong?? maybe i was overreacting

(2:41) Kuroo: _wow i can tell ur stressing_

(2:41) Kuroo: _that's a lot of syllables for u_

(2:42) shut up

(2:42) Kuroo: _but bro, he's been giving u heart eyes for FOREVR_

(2:43) Kuroo: _like hardcore heart eyes_

(2:43) Kuroo: _u would b an even bigger idiot than normal to not go for it now_

Bokuto frowns down at his phone. He types out another reply, still not entirely convinced that he hadn't just spun the whole thing out of proportion. Maybe Akaashi had just felt cramped or something - he'd seen bathroom stalls larger than that room - and was trying to adjust. His head would naturally be closer, then; it wasn't like he was leaning in for a kiss or anything.

His face goes hot at the mere idea of it, because at the back of his mind, he's fully aware of what their actions a few nights ago meant. Akaashi had leaned in closer while they were talking about how nice their last kisses were and Bokuto had moved in too. And there they had lingered, a breath apart.

And then Nishinoya, the asshat, had come and interrupted it all. 

He sighs. Really, he doesn't blame Nishinoya in any respect; the guy was just doing what he had set out to do. At least they hadn't been caught like Iwaizumi and Oikawa. It's more than that, though - a part of him is almost glad that they had been interrupted. It sounds stupid and immature, but if he had finally kissed Akaashi while they were both halfway to being drunk, it would have felt like it didn't properly count. _Past that_ , he thinks with a half-grimace, _maybe he wouldn't have meant it_. 

Even now, that idea nags at him: that it could have truly just been an alcohol-induced haze that drove Akaashi to put his lips so close to Bokuto's, propelled forward not by feelings but by a cheap stupor. The thought of it scares him, because he doesn't think that Akaashi is that sort of guy at all. But still, people's inhibitions are lowered when they're buzzed, and stupid decisions come much easier than they do when sober. 

Bokuto shakes his head. _He would never do that to me_. He pads to the bathroom, socks shuffling against the wooden floors, and plants his hands on either side of the sink. His eyes rake over his reflection in the bathroom mirror, taking in his mess of hair, lopsided smile, and bright eyes. He was never a person who hated how he looked, but when placed next to someone like Akaashi, could he even measure up? 

A moment later, he snorts. He's getting in his own head again, self-sabotaging like he used to back in high school. Bokuto has moved past that now; he's an adult, a college student, and one who nearly kissed the guy he has a mega-crush on a few days ago. Kuroo is probably right - Akaashi isn't the kind of person to act on some drunken impulse, especially not with someone who he's close to - and Bokuto has a real, genuine chance here. 

He then realizes that he's spent the past three minutes staring himself down with a dopey smile plastered all over his face, and suddenly feels immensely grateful that Akaashi is out getting groceries right now. He straightens up and flashes one more smile at his reflection, feeling significantly better than before. 

Another thing he's grateful for is that aside from an increased rate at which their eyes will catch from across the room or the way his heart pounds when Akaashi gets within five feet of him, things are more or less the same. Bokuto absolutely would not be able to pretend that he's totally chill if Akaashi had started acting weird after that night, so the normalcy is entirely welcomed. 

(Plus, it meant that they hadn't had one of those awful "what are we?" talks that he always abhors. Thus, he could plan out the coolest, most absolutely romance movie-esque way to profess his feelings to Akaashi.

And hopefully steal a fiery kiss while he's at it.)

Easy peasy, no problem. 

\-----

Bokuto holds two hangers up to his chest, turning from side to side as Kuroo stares blankly up at him from the floor. 

"Gray shirt or black shirt?"

Kuroo hums. "The gray one. It makes you look more built."

"Do I ever tell you how much I love you?" Bokuto asks, pulling off the raggedy shirt that he slept in last night and pulling the gray one on. He reaches over and snatches a pair of black pants off of his bed. 

"Not nearly as much as you should."

"You're right. I love you, bro." 

"Love you too. Now, you said that Akaashi would be meeting us there?"

Bokuto nods an affirmative, running a hand through his hair until it returns to its usual texture. "Yeah, I checked with him before he left. Said it was close to the cafe where he was meeting Yukie to talk about being a TA next year." 

Kuroo whistles appreciatively. "Damn, Bo. You've got yourself one smart-ass boyfriend." 

"I know!" Bokuto grins, before adding an: "Akaashi isn't my boyfriend, though."

"He will be soon enough," Kuroo replies, wiggling his eyebrows, and Bokuto pretends to shove him before reaching a hand down to help him off of the floor. "I'm not an old lady. You don't have to help me up."

Bokuto grabs his keys off of the kitchen counter when he finishes tying his shoes. "Yeah, yeah, sure thing. Ready to go?"

Kuroo mutters something about having been ready to leave for the last half hour, but Bokuto dutifully ignores him. He swings the door open, cheerfully ushering the other outside, and hums contentedly as he locks it behind them.

"You're in a good mood," Kuroo remarks dryly. 

Bokuto takes the stairs two at a time, landing with bent knees on the concrete. "You betcha! Tonight, I'm totally gonna lay the charm all over Akaashi. Just you watch."

The party they're headed to is a bit of a walk, maybe twenty-five minutes, but they're both too cheap to pay for a ride there and the weather is nice enough that it won't be a bother. Bokuto toes at a stray pebble, dribbling it back and forth between his feet as he walks. When he kicks it too hard, sending it tumbling into the street, he is reminded that he was (rightfully) not chosen by the universe to play soccer. 

They strike up an easy conversation which eventually turns into Bokuto needling Kuroo about whether or not he was ever going to make a move on Kenma. So far, his progress seems to be limited to letting the small blond fall asleep on his shoulder and walking him to classes when he has the time. For what it's worth, Bokuto can totally see the way that Kenma looks at him - it's very different from how he looks at everyone else (other than Hinata, but he's pretty sure it's just some funny mutual admiration rather than anything remotely romantic). 

When Kenma looks at Kuroo, it always seems like he has to fight to keep that usual veneer of false boredom that comes so naturally when he interacts with others. Bokuto knows Kenma well enough to be aware that he's quite standoffish to strangers but kinder in small ways to his friends, only ever half-annoyed at most. Really, he's a very funny and charismatic person; he's just more reserved than most, so it doesn't present itself in the usual exuberant manner that Bokuto's does. Instead, it shows in his small but genuine smiles and the snarky remarks that he deals out without hesitation. 

But somehow, his interactions with Kuroo run a level or two deeper. It's like there's some sort of inherent understanding between the two of them, almost as if they run on their own little radio signal that others can't access. Kenma really, truly trusts Kuroo, and despite his sarcastic words and eye rolls, thinks extremely highly of him. Even if the guy has the world's weirdest bangs situation (and coming from Bokuto, the master of unique hairstyles, that says a lot). 

He doesn't feel left out by it, funnily enough. A younger Bokuto definitely would have, riddled with insecurities and always feeling like the misshapen third wheel. He's moved away from that, now; he has a wide variety of colorful and kind friends, and if all else fails, he will always have his mom and sisters to call home to. 

What's more, he has Akaashi: lovely, funny, secretly-dorky Akaashi who never judges him for tearing up during sappy movies and always makes sure he eats all of his vegetables at dinner (though it's no chore of any sort; Akaashi has yet to make a dish that doesn't taste like it was prepared by the gods). 

He also may be a little bit biased, due to his ridiculous, all-consuming crush, but who's really counting?

"Anyways, while I wish it was that easy, Kenma is a tough one to read sometimes," Kuroo laments as they approach the front door of the house. "I never quite know if he's in the mood for me to push my luck. Well, we're here."

Bokuto shoots him a winning smile and a thumbs-up before knocking on the door. A boy with dark hair and piercing eyes opens the door. "Hey, Bokuto. Hey, Kuroo."

"Suna, my man! How're you doing?" Bokuto chirps, and Kuroo waves from behind him. 

Suna shrugs with an easy smile. "Doing well enough, since Osamu was the one in charge of snacks this time around. Come on in."

Bokuto and Kuroo share a glance, silently pumping their fists as they enter the house. Miyas Atsumu and Osamu were common names on Bokuto's radar, well-known and well-liked by the majority of those who ran in their social circles. The twins had made a significant name for themselves in high school, when their school had boasted its powerhouse male volleyball team.

Also, Osamu was widely acknowledged for being a great cook and just having a good eye for good food in general, which helps one's popularity in college a lot, since everyone kind of eats and lives like ninja turtles most of the time. Atsumu, on the other hand, was not to be trusted around an open flame at any cost.

The air is thick and hot. It presses in around Bokuto from all sides as he moves from one room to the next as Suna tells them where the food and drinks are. 

"So, I heard that you've got yourself a guy recently?" Suna asks casually, though his eyes flicker back and forth between Bokuto and a faraway wall for it to not be fueled by a greater curiosity. Briefly, Bokuto wonders who the hell told him, but his friends were never very good at keeping secrets anyways. 

Bokuto grins resignedly. "Kind of. I like him, and I think he at least sort of feels the same way, so I'm just gonna see where it goes."

Kuroo claps him on the back, jostling Suna with his other elbow. "He's being modest. Our Akaashi is head-over-heels for Bo, here, let me tell you."

"Really?" Suna lifts an inquisitive eyebrow. "Tell me more. Will I get to meet him tonight?"

"Probably," Bokuto and Kuroo chorus. 

"Good." 

"But you'll be casual about it?" Bokuto pleads, shooting Suna what he hopes is a pitiful puppy-dog face. Unfortunately, Suna is one of the people who is very rarely swayed by his tactics. 

It seems that tonight is like any other in that respect. "I would have said yes even if you didn't pull that scary-ass face at me, but sure."

Kuroo snickers as Bokuto's mouth drops open. " _Scary_? Dude, this is a grade-A guilt trip stare!" 

"I wouldn't have guessed."

\-----

Incidentally, Kenma and Akaashi arrive together.

Bokuto (unsuccessfully) attempts to keep his heart from jumping into his throat at the sight of Akaashi in charcoal gray pants with a black shirt tucked into the waist. The first two buttons sit undone, and Bokuto gulps at the sight of the corner of a collarbone. 

And then they get closer, and he notices that Akaashi is wearing - Christ almighty - a pair of studded earrings that glint in the multicolored party lights. Oh, if he wasn't fucked before, he sure is now. Kenma is wearing some too, actually; theirs are matching. 

"H-Hey, 'Kaashi," Bokuto says weakly. "I didn't know your ears were pierced."

Akaashi laughs softly. "They aren't. Kenma loaned me a magnetic pair that he had laying around and decided to wear the other ones so I wouldn't feel weird about it."

He then tugs at an earlobe, fingers grazing that soft inky hair, and looks almost nervous for a moment. He pulls his bottom lip between his teeth ever so slightly. "Do you think it looks weird?"

"Weird?" Bokuto gapes. "How could I think you look weird? Akaashi, they look - you look - wow. They really, really suit you." 

Akaashi lets his fingers leave his earlobe. "Thanks, Bokuto-san. Sorry I'm late; I ended up stopping by Kuroo and Kenma's place because I didn't want Kenma to feel awkward walking alone or anything like that."

Bokuto's heart flutters. "That's really nice of you, 'Kaashi. I'm sure he's super appreciative."

"Oh, come on. It's nothing." Akaashi waves him off, but a small smile dances across his lips. "So I heard that Miya-san - Osamu, I mean - was in charge of food?"

Bokuto jabs a thumb in the direction of the kitchen. "Yeah! Come on, let's grab some."

Akaashi follows him into the kitchen, where platters of food and bags of chips lay across the counter. Bokuto strategically positions himself so that he has a clear view of Kuroo and Kenma, and - oh. _This is interesting_ , he thinks gleefully. 

He's much too far away to hear what either of them are saying, but he watches as Kuroo brings a thumb up to feel the metal of Kenma's studded earring. The blond's face is painted in a pink flush as he pulls back, lips quirking to one side. After a moment, he shakes his head, steps forward again, and tilts his chin up and to the side so Kuroo can touch the earrings again. Kuroo's mouth presses into a wavering line but he leans in to admire the bits of metal, fingertips careful and soft in their prodding. 

"Talk about tension," he grins to Akaashi, whose gaze has now followed his. "When do you think they'll finally realize?"

Akaashi sighs. "They're less hopeless than they used to be, but they're both awful at communicating considering how in-tune they are."

"Yeah," Bokuto sighs, and grabs a cup of chips and a drink. "Where to next?"

They mill around for a few minutes. Akaashi fills a cup with berries and fishes a beer out of a cooler for himself, and then they set off to find others. It takes a few minutes, but they come across Hinata and Kageyama, the former perched on a counter and swinging his legs as he chatters excitedly. 

The four of them have to speak loudly in order to be heard over the music, which blasts from somewhere off to their left. It pounds in Bokuto's ears, the heavy bass sending a lingering tattoo through his mind. He sways slightly to the beat as he talks, and Hinata eventually joins in, bopping his head cheerily whilst taking swigs of his drink.

Naturally, there's some of their trademark bickering as Kageyama and Hinata talk, but it holds none of the spitting ferocity that it used to. It's more companionable now, more like banter than real argumentation, and Bokuto breathes a sigh of relief at the thought of no longer having to steer the redhead to the back of the cafe whenever Kageyama shows up during a shift. 

What's more, he can see the gazes they shoot each other when one thinks that the other is looking far enough in the other direction. Kageyama allows his eyes to creep up to where Hinata sits when he rambles to Akaashi, and Hinata's eyes dart between Kageyama and Bokuto's face when he tells a story from his freshman year with Kuroo. 

Eventually, he and Akaashi wave a goodbye over the screaming bass and pad off in search of Suna. He lets Akaashi know that Suna's been wanting to meet him (but carefully leaves out the reason why), and when his eyes land on a familiar head of brown hair, he calls out. Suna stands talking quietly to Osamu in a corner, but his eyes spark with interest when he meets Bokuto's gaze. 

As it turns out, both Suna and Osamu really like Akaashi. Actually, they get along surprisingly well - not that he had expected them to dislike each other, but it usually takes Akaashi more time to really warm up to others. In a matter of minutes, he's smiling and joking with them like he would with any of his other friends - like he would with Bokuto - and an immature, ridiculous pang of jealousy shoots through his chest. 

The more he thinks about things like this, the worse he gets. He hated being so insecure as a teenager, easily irked by the smallest things about himself, quick to let offhand comments bog his spirits down. This is a situation where he is far from being an outsider, far from being excluded at all, and yet somehow he still feels like a bystander in his own conversation. 

Bokuto is feeling jealous, and he's an idiot for it. 

Akaashi is allowed to be his own person. Truthfully, Bokuto is extremely happy for him. He's come so far since the beginning of the year, when he had first confided that he had no true close friends. He's established himself as a core part of the social spheres of many people around him, and not because he's "Bokuto's roommate" or "Bokuto's crush." Instead, he's been able to do that because Akaashi is a well-rounded, capable, interesting guy who people are lucky to get to know. 

Bokuto is proud of him, but he is also immensely afraid. He's afraid that the day will come when Akaashi realizes that Bokuto isn't nearly as cool as he may seem, that his childishness is annoying rather than endearing. One day, he'll wake up and Akaashi will no longer be his best friend. He'll find other, cooler people, and Bokuto will be one more forgotten photo in someone's camera roll. 

Again, he's acutely aware that this is ridiculous. If Akaashi didn't want to be his friend or spend so much time with him, he simply wouldn't. He isn't the kind of person to hang out with others out of pity or some sort of moral superiority; he does it because he is kind and genuine. He thinks of Bokuto as his best friend just as much as Bokuto does Akaashi. He would never simply leave Bokuto behind on a passing whim, would never crumple him up and throw him away like an old homework assignment. 

_Akaashi cares about me, too_ , Bokuto thinks, just as Akaashi turns to him and flashes a reserved smile. His insides squirm happily at the sight. _He isn't going to leave_. 

\-----

A couple of hours and more than a couple of drinks later, the two of them sit in a small circle with a few friends, chattering animatedly over the music. Kuroo rests against the edge of a couch, Kenma slumped back against him. Every now and then, he brings a hand up to fiddle with Kenma's earrings and they both share a blush.

Tsukishima and Yamaguchi sit side by side, cross-legged and knocking accidentally against one another when one of them shifts every now and then. It's perfectly obvious that they're both moving much more than they need to, but the air is laced with their sweet admiration for each other and Bokuto can't blame them anyways. He's a sap like that.

Unfortunately for him, he and Akaashi don't seem to be sharing any cliche romantic moments for the time being. Bokuto lounges on the floor, propped up on an elbow, and Akaashi sits with his head resting on one palm to his right. There is no fiddling with earrings or knocking of knees, and he takes a moment to lament his admittedly lame situation. 

"Oi," comes a voice from above. "Miss me?"

Bokuto cranes his neck back and makes out a head of fluffy hair blocking out the overhead lights. "Hello, Oikawa. We all missed you very much."

Akaashi shuffles over to allow for Iwaizumi to sit down, which he accepts with a grin and a nod before saying his hellos to everyone. Oikawa is a bit less graceful in his motions, choosing to just flop down into Iwaizumi's lap. Iwaizumi grimaces when Oikawa's jaw strikes the meat of his thigh and shoves him off. 

"I'm going to take a wild guess and say that Oikawa's already had a bit to drink," Kuroo muses, to which Oikawa sticks out his tongue. 

Iwaizumi rubs the sore spot on his thigh. "Yeah. He lunged for the drinks when we first got here."

"Mean, Iwa-chan! You lie!" Oikawa cries, but grabs Iwaizumi's hand and presses a soft kiss to the back. He smiles upward innocently. "I would never be so irresponsible so as to immediately get drunk at a party."

"You would," Iwaizumi scowls, but cards a hand through Oikawa's hair affectionately. 

Kuroo and Bokuto share a glance before beginning a series of rough hacking sounds. Kenma peers behind him, unimpressed, while Akaashi rolls his eyes with a snort. 

Tsukishima's mouth flattens even further than usual. "How do you two always manage to get even weirder when you're drunk?"

"Come off it, Tsukki," Yamaguchi coos from beside him, jabbing him lightly with an elbow. "You like their company, don't lie. I see right through you." 

To Bokuto's elation, Tsukishima says nothing in protest. Instead he chooses to take another sip of his drink, setting it down with a tired-sounding sigh. Akaashi shoots him a sympathetic smile, and it's returned with a little less sympathy and a little more exasperation. _Of course Akaashi is one of the few people that Tsukki actively gets along with_ , Bokuto muses with a grin. _He's just that neat_. 

And because he's just that neat, Akaashi then offers to grab more drinks for people a few minutes later. Kuroo and Yamaguchi ask for more with grateful looks (not wanting to get up from their little moments of college romance), but Bokuto shakes his head with a chipper "I'm okay!" He does offer to join Akaashi, but is quickly turned down. 

"I'll be fine, Bokuto-san," Akaashi says, head cocked in amusement. "I can handle getting drinks on my own."

So Bokuto acquiesces and allows him to push through the throngs of people to the kitchen, triad of cups in hand. A minute passes, and Bokuto and Kenma discuss a new game coming out in the coming month, though Kenma naturally knows much more than he does about it. A few more tick by, and the group's conversation shifts to the upcoming fall semester, though a nagging urge to go check on Akaashi begins to press at his brain. He furrows his eyebrows. _No, I won't go after him just yet. He'll think I'm smothering him or something_.

When it finally hits the five-minute mark (not that he had been anxiously checking the time on his phone or anything), he abruptly stands. "I'm going to go see how Akaashi's doing," he declares, and Iwaizumi sends him an affirmative nod. He brushes off his knees and sets off toward the kitchen, muttering apologies to anybody that he jostles on the way over. 

Akaashi isn't in the kitchen, but the three cups sit in a line on the counter. A jolt of anxiety zips through him and he begins to make his way to the other room with more urgency. God, he was so dumb to get caught up in his own worries rather than making sure his friend was fine sooner. If he was in trouble somewhere, if someone was trying to _hurt him_ \- Bokuto shakes his head fervently. Find Akaashi first, and then worry. 

He bursts into the next room, a bundle of nerves and energy, and inhales deeply - relieved - when he spies Akaashi on a couch at the far wall. And then he does a double take, and inhales deeply for another reason entirely when he sees that some dude has his hand pressed down firmly on Akaashi's upper thigh. 

_Not again_ , he thinks with a scowl.

He gets closer, and his annoyance deepens, because it's _the same fucking guy from last time_. Clearly, he still has yet to take a comprehensive class on respecting others' boundaries and not being an absolute creep. Bokuto marches forward, furious not for himself but for Akaashi, and does his best not to ball his hands into fists. 

Akaashi's gaze lands on him when he's still a good fifteen feet away, blue-green eyes blown wide with a mixture of desperation and relief. He beckons him with a hand when the guy's head is turned for a split second, and Bokuto hurries over, trying his best to control the flares of anger that spike in his mind at the sight of the hand on Akaashi's leg. It looks wrong there. It shouldn't be there.

"Oh, here he is!" Akaashi exclaims, falsely cheery, as Bokuto approaches. 

The man turns back to him, then to Bokuto. His gaze narrows. "You again? Who the hell is this loser, anyway?"

Bokuto positively fumes. He opens his mouth to deliver a blistering reply when Akaashi shakes his head almost imperceptibly, grabbing ahold of the man's wrist and prying it off of his leg without grace.

"He's my boyfriend, thanks," Akaashi says, all saccharine sweetness, and Bokuto's heart drops into his stomach. "Right, Koutarou?"

It's so stupid. He knows that Akaashi is just saying it as a desperate ploy to get this leech off of his back, but the b-word still sends a thrill racing down his spine. And the sound of his given name rolling so easily off of his tongue, said casually like one would to a lover? It warms him to his very core. The flash of excitement turns into energy, raw and unfiltered, and this all works to make Bokuto's mock-triumphant grin all the wider. He sits down on the couch beside Akaashi, wages a tiny war with himself, and then wraps both hands around the raven's waist. 

In a moment of stupid courage, fueled by anger and momentary elation, but he uses it to gently hoist Akaashi onto his lap, wrapping both arms snugly around his midsection. He makes sure to do it slowly enough that Akaashi could wriggle out if he wanted to, but no such move is made, so he smiles wider and tucks his head into the crook between Akaashi's neck and shoulder. 

"Yeah," he breathes, and he feels his eyes darken a fraction as he peers at the creep. His nerves crackle with electricity. "Akaashi and I are very happy together, and we aren't looking for a third party." 

Unfortunately, the man still looks unconvinced. He leers at the two of them, dark eyes glinting with something ugly. "I don't buy it. You were here for quite a while before your 'boyfriend' here came to find you." 

Akaashi turns around ever so slightly, angling his body so that his chest is pressed lightly against Bokuto's. Bokuto shivers at the feeling of a warm body so close to his own; he feels giddy from it, wants to let his hands roam across Akaashi's slender shoulders and down his slim abdomen. His head burrows closer into the crook of the raven's neck, face hot and red. 

"You hear that, Kou?" Akaashi murmurs. "He wants proof." 

Bokuto takes his head out from where it's nestled, gazing up into Akaashi's sparking eyes. Even now, sullied by annoyance, they're breathtaking. His lips are wet, bitten red by what must have been worried teeth, and Bokuto wants nothing more than to take them, soothe them with his own. "Should we prove it then?"

It seems that neither of them stop to think about the consequences that this may hold for them. Neither of them are drunk; they've only had a drink or two at most and it's far from enough to keep either of them from lucid thought. They're both half a step away from sober and are fully aware of themselves.

But in this moment, their aggressor doesn't exist, and neither does rational thought. No, it's just Akaashi and the colorful lights and pounding music. It seems to thrum louder and louder with every beat, thumping in time with Bokuto's heart. He's so caught up in the moment that he nearly misses the look Akaashi gives him, nearly misses the tiny _please_ that is mouthed mere inches away. He meets Akaashi's eyes, pleading and desperate, for a split second before he's surging forward and pressing his lips to the mouth there. 

It's soft and warm and tastes faintly like blackberries. Akaashi's lips are plush against his own, and they move slowly in a honeyed, private rhythm all their own. They kiss like they have kissed a million times before in a million different universes, like this is not their first but their thousandth. They kiss like they love each other from the depths of their souls and Bokuto wants nothing more than to stay like this forever. 

And then, rudely, the moment is broken. 

The guy sneers. "I should have realized. And here I was, thinking that you were enough of a slut to at least suck me off once or twice."

Another flash of rage courses through Bokuto's body. He prepares himself to move Akaashi off of his lap and lunge for the bastard - tackle him to the floor, maybe, because nobody calls Akaashi a _slut_ \- before a loud slap rings through the air. The guy yelps in pain and surprise reeling back to stand up off of the couch. "You fucker!" 

"I am not a slut, but even if I was, I wouldn't willingly put my mouth within ten feet of your sorry dick," Akaashi says calmly, hand still raised in the air. His eyes blaze. "And unless you want a matching mark on your other cheek sometime, I suggest that you don't come within ten feet of me at any more parties."

"Fuck you!" The man spits, but takes a step backward and then shoves his way out of the room, presumably heading for the front door. 

Bokuto's head is nothing but a whirlwind of thoughts. He's reeling at the aftertaste of blackberries and the feeling of Akaashi's lips and the fire that burns in the raven's eyes as they follow the man leaving the party. It's all too much to process, what with the alcohol burning holes in his veins and the adrenaline singeing his lungs to pieces. 

_I want to kiss Akaashi again_ , he thinks dumbly. _I really do_. 

And so, because Bokuto is a man of weak willpower when it comes to everything about the boy with flames in his eyes, he does. He takes Akaashi's cheek in his hand and unthinkingly guides it back so the raven is looking at him, now. There are still embers that linger there, behind curtains of blue-green, and they send shivers arcing through every cell of his being. He moves his hand to rest on the back of Akaashi's neck and coaxes his head down so he can plunge their mouths together again. 

This one is urgent. Bokuto pours his everything into this kiss: all the nights spent at home tossing and turning and wanting for what wasn't his, all the times that he'd desired to feel Akaashi's body pressed to his own, all the moments when he could feel himself falling deeper and deeper. All of it twines together and seeps into this kiss. 

He allows himself to enjoy this moment, devoid of distraction or interruption. It's just him, Akaashi, and the rolling bass of the music. He lets a tiny sigh of contentment leave his lungs and travel into the kiss, so glad that he's finally done what he's been wanting to do for months now. 

But then he stops. Akaashi's hardly breathing, he realizes, and pries his eyes open. Akaashi looks stunned, caught entirely off guard, and the sight sends Bokuto's chest plummeting into the earth below. His eyes are wide, green-blues clear and wavering, lips parted as if asking a silent question that Bokuto can't even begin to answer. 

He knows what Akaashi wants to ask, can see it written across his face in fat black marker. 

_Why?_

And with that, Bokuto is no longer the confident and charismatic university student who so often greets each person with a winning grin and easy hello. No, right now he's nothing more than a terrified, insecure high schooler with a heart made of glass that he can hear breaking into a million pieces. His breath catches in his throat, won't come out. He's practically choking on the taste of blackberries on his tongue. 

He can feel a sob welling up in his throat, and he can't just cry here like a sixteen-year-old, he's past that now. He's supposed to be, at least. So he shifts, allows Akaashi to slide off of his lap and back onto the couch, and scrambles off of the couch. The corners of his eyes sting with hot tears. 

Akaashi opens his mouth to say something, but the look of sheer bewilderment on his face hurtles through Bokuto's stomach like a bullet. "Bokuto-san, I-"

"I'm sorry," he chokes out.

And then Bokuto, unable to even look down at his roommate - his best friend - turns and dashes out of the room, past the front door, and into the cloudy summer night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh ho ho ho i got this whole chapter done in like two nights and while i'm absolute shit at writing anything Angsty (tm) i hope that this wasn't too awful. if it was, i get it - sad things aren't my forte when it comes to writing. but hey, at least that means that i won't be writing much of it! 
> 
> also, i wanted to put out a little reminder that this story won't just end with the getting-together of our main couple! i feel like there aren't enough fics that follow couples when they're dating and all, and so this is not nearing its end :)) (i'm also just too attached to this story to let it go that soon. how lame of me.)
> 
> finally: i'll hopefully be able to start updating at least a little more frequently, since it's second semester and college apps are soon to be done. i can't say for sure that i'll be able to update on a solid schedule, but i should have a bit more time on my hands. anyways, lemme know what you think! all feedback is always much appreciated.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which the world has turned on its head - twice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> man, i've had this sitting finished for like three days. i really enjoyed writing this. 
> 
> if you wanna set the "mood" that i had while writing the first bit, i suggest listening to "two slow dancers" by mitski, the cover of "sweater weather" by joel sunny (it's beautiful), or "do not wait" by wallows. later in the chapter it was more "float away" by i saw you yesterday and "mrs magic" by strawberry guy.
> 
> anyways, i'll let you guys get to reading. see you in the end notes!

_I'm so stupid._

The first tear rolls down Bokuto's cheeks when he rounds the corner, harsh and scalding against his skin. He does everything in his power to will them away, prove to himself that he's not just a pathetic teenager anymore, but they continue to fall. One drips down, and then the next, and then the dam breaks and they begin to mercilessly cascade down his face.

He starts to run as best as he can, but his eyesight is blurry and he struggles to choke down gulps of air which swirl unpleasantly in his lungs. How stupid he must look, a lonely, heartbroken college student dashing down dimly lit streets, coughing through his tears, doing anything - everything - he can to just get _away_. Away from the house, away from Akaashi, away from himself and his idiocy.

How could he have been so naive, so unwilling to accept that maybe once, he wouldn't be successful with something? But shit, if Bokuto could have been successful with anything in the world, anything at all, he would have chosen Akaashi a hundred times over. A thousand. A million.

The concrete hammers under his feet as he twists and turns down unfamiliar streets. He's long since lost track of where he is, but can't bother to find it in himself to care. Nothing is important right now; all that matters is that he had one shot to do something right by himself, and he botched it. He fucked it up, and did so in such a catastrophic manner that he lost his best friend - the _best_ best friend he could have ever asked for.

Akaashi has done nothing wrong, and Bokuto almost hates him for it. He nearly hates him because he knows that no matter how much he tries, he will never be able to hate Akaashi Keiji, not in a million years. He cares far too much, and always has; Bokuto is the sort of person who devotes himself wholly to those he admires and cares for, and saves a place in his heart for each and every one of them. Akaashi - the beautiful, enrapturing med student who had effortlessly won him over with his gentle smile and endless bounty of measured words - had taken his place in Bokuto's heart, and there would be no removing him from it.

He'll even be kind in letting Bokuto down, too - he'll reject his feelings oh-so softly, won't be dismissive or harsh or any of the things Bokuto needs him to be. No, he will carefully consider the weight of Bokuto's admiration and set it gently on the floor to be quietly swept under the rug as the days blend together into a mess of gray. And Bokuto, the boy who offers his heart as a gift, will watch as it's broken in the kindest way it ever could be.

Eventually, his breaths grow too ragged for him to continue at his pace, so he slows and pauses to wipe at his eyes. The tears glisten like little stars on the skin of his arm, twinkling despite the overcast skies, and when he inhales a shudder wracks through his frame. His feet drag against the cement as he walks aimlessly, carrying him without direction. All the while, the tears never stop, rolling like dewdrops down the apples of his cheeks until he halfheartedly wipes them away.

"I must look crazy," he half-chuckles to himself, but the words sit bitter in his mouth.

He stops at a park, one that he actually does recognize. It looks as though he's walked in what was more or less a giant circle, leaving him only a five-minute walk from their dorm. At the thought of returning to the dorm and seeing Akaashi's stuff - hell, maybe even seeing Akaashi - his stomach turns with dread. He can't go back now, at least not in his current state.

Because Bokuto is apparently not only a pathetic loser but a coward as well, he decides to rest at the park and gather his nerves before heading home. He finds his way to a bench under a flickering streetlight, cool air wrapping around him like a blanket, and sits with a choked sigh. A sob threatens to bubble up in his throat and he hastily swallows it down, barely having managed to keep the tears at bay for a couple of moments.

The clouds sift lazily above his head, letting the wind carry them without protest. He turns his head skyward and breathes in deeply through his nose; the scents of freshly cut grass and lavender whirl playfully together before they leave his lungs once again.

It feels as if the world has come crashing down at his feet. His mind is off-balance, his thoughts are out of tune. Nothing is correct right now, because he's botched it all and there's no redrawing the lines that he's crossed, not anymore. Everything else could have been shrugged off: the lingering gazes, the hugs that lasted a moment too long, the way he had shifted much too close in that stupid, cramped closet. But this? No, he's far past the realm of excuses.

This was the most he's liked someone in a very long time.

_The most I've liked someone ever._

_The most I've loved someone ever._

"The most I've-I've _loved_ -" he gasps aloud, and then the force of his words hit him and he doubles over where he sits. He squeezes his eyes shut as his lungs flutter for air amidst the fresh wave of sobs that wrack his body.

Of course he loves Akaashi. After all, how could he not? It's always been building to this moment, a silent crescendo which rose with every shared glance and every moment spent at their tiny dinner table. It was there with every nature documentary they watched together and each time Bokuto managed to make Akaashi laugh until he was bent at the waist.

Bokuto loves Akaashi because it's like he was made for it.

And with this, the final confession that he has held from himself for too long, he gives in and allows himself to cry freely. Nobody is around; nobody can see the way he shudders with each breath or the way he buries his face in his too-warm hands. It is just Bokuto and his shame, Bokuto and his self-inflicted heartbreak.

His mother had always encouraged him to cry when he needed to, funnily enough. It was one of the many things that had set her so far above others; she taught her children that vulnerability was nothing to be regretful of.

"Oh, Koutarou," she had murmured one day, stroking his tear-stained cheek with calloused palms. "Let it out."

He had looked up at her gentle face, his golden eyes watery and full of humiliation. "But Dad told me before that boys shouldn't cry. He said it makes me weak."

At this, she'd snorted softly. "Since when has that father of yours ever been right?"

Bokuto had remained unconvinced. He was so sure of it - after all, his father had told him so himself, and while he was far away in a new city with a new wife, he surely couldn't be wrong when it came to his own son. His lower lip had continued to tremble as fresh tears burned in his eyes.

"He was wrong, Koutarou," she had continued. "Look at me. Your emotions, good or bad, do not make you weak. The people who are willing to face their feelings and accept them as they are? Those are the strongest people of all."

"Really?" He'd asked, rubbing tiredly at his eyes.

She had laughed, pushing locks of hair away from his forehead. "Yes. You're one of the strongest people I know. So cry, and don't be afraid of it, because your humanity is what grants you your strength."

And so, under the faint light of the moon that peeks from between dark clouds, Bokuto allows himself to be human. Pitifully, undeniably, heartbreakingly human.

\-----

It's another forty-five minutes before he's in front of his front door. No light can be seen through the front window, and he's not sure if that comforts or terrifies him. But at the very least, it means that he won't have to face Akaashi for the moment, so he lifts his key with a half-steadied hand and unlocks the door, letting it swing open slowly. Closing it behind him allows him to take in a breath of familiar air. He flicks the lights on and toes off his shoes.

For some odd reason, he finds himself drifting over to where his plants sit on his windowsill. They still have no names - he could never think of ones that quite fit their odd shapes and colors - but that's alright. He'll always have tomorrow.

He shuffles into the bathroom and winces at the reflection that peers back at him from the mirror there. His eyes are red-rimmed and his cheeks flushed and blotchy. Strands of hair lay limp, long since having fallen from their former enthusiastic spikes.

It finally strikes him that he should check his phone - he'd left the party without so much as a word to anyone and hadn't even looked to see if anyone had tried to contact him. When he fishes it out of his pocket and flicks it to life, the screen is covered with texts from at least seven different people. He scrolls through them for a moment, only looking at the first few before skipping to ones sent later.

(10:38) Akaashi: _Where did you go?_

(10:39) Akaashi: _I'd like to talk - are you at home?_

(10:43) Kuroo: _dude akaashi told us that u left_

(10:43) Kuroo: _are u ok??_

(10:43) Iwaizumi: _If you need anything at all we're here for you_

(10:46) Oikawa: _i can meet you somewhere if you wanna talk_

(11:02) Kenma: _hey, akaashi told me what happened. he's on his way to you now._

(11: 33) Akaashi: _Stopped by the dorm. If you get the chance, please let us know that you're seeing these._

(11:40) Daichi: _Akaashi called and asked if you were around. Is something up???_

Guilt runs heavy as lead through him. It's now well past midnight, and he's just now checking his phone - knowing his friends, they're probably on the verge of hailing a cab and scouring everything in a four-mile radius for him. He hurriedly types out similar messages to everyone, promising that he's safe at home and that he'll tell them what happened tomorrow. He doesn't want to admit to his utter failure to everyone just yet.

Then he pauses, because there is one person that he has yet to text; the contact hovers on his screen as if to taunt him. He bites his lip, clenches and unclenches his hands, and swipes to open the message thread.

(12:17) i'm home

The reply is almost instantaneous.

(12:17) Akaashi: _Okay._

A jolt of anxiety tears through him upon seeing the name. He feels unprepared. He's not ready to look Akaashi in those sharp blue-green eyes and apologize for what must have been weeks of misunderstanding. He doesn't want to apologize - he's terrified, in fact. But Akaashi deserves an apology and a real explanation, and so an apology and a real explanation he will get.

Until then, though, he has however long it takes Akaashi to get home to be a wimp, so he allows himself to indulge in one more act of immaturity. He leaves the bathroom, flicking the light off in his wake, and moves to stand in front of Akaashi's reading desk.

It's something he did occasionally in his high school years. After particularly bad practices or rough days at school, he would squeeze himself into small crevices between or under furniture. It was ridiculous, and he was always perfectly aware of that, and yet it was a habit that took many years (and bad practices) to break. 

The last time he did it was - well, it was weeks before Akaashi ever came to live with him. Before Akaashi began living as his roommate, he would feel the urge every now and then; it was something that he actively worked to repress, something he had (supposedly) grown out of long ago. Funnily enough, in all of the months that were spent with Akaashi at his side, he hadn't once felt the compulsion that he so often experienced before. Until now. 

Heaving a deep sigh and cringing at his own childishness, Bokuto gets down and crawls underneath the desk. 

For whatever reason, the press of the wall against his side and the flat surface of the desk against his neck are soothing. He lets himself be cradled there, an adult man scrunched into a ball under his roommate's wooden desk, and allows his eyes to fall closed. All that he focuses in on is his breathing, the slow and slightly steadier in-and-out of air through his lungs. It forces him to calm down, stay grounded. Right now, he needs all the calm he can get.

He stays there for a while, long enough to lull himself into a state of near-serenity.

And then the sound of footsteps outside the front door float through the air, accompanied by the sound of a lock turning. His eyes squeeze shut of their own accord and he curls in tighter on himself. He hears the door opening, a pair of shoes stepping inside and then being carefully toed off at the entrance.

"Bokuto-san?" Akaashi asks.

Bokuto wrenches his jaw open, and when he speaks, his voice is low and hoarse. "In here."

As soon as the words are out of his mouth, he becomes acutely aware of the fact that he's curled into a ball under a desk. He moves to scramble out and right himself before Akaashi can see how pathetic he must seem right now, but it's no use. A pair of legs appear in front of his hiding place. He's about to cough up a bullshit story about dropping something under there, anything to excuse his ridiculous behavior, but Akaashi is already kneeling to his level.

Golden eyes flicker to meet green-blue ones, but neither of them open their mouths to speak. He blinks nervously and attempts to prepare himself for whatever words may come next. There'll probably be the inevitable question as to what the hell he's doing, and then the dreaded "what are we?" talk, and then they'll both go to bed and have to pretend that tonight never even happened. He steadies himself, readying for the worst, and then:

"Are you alright?"

_What?_

Is Bokuto _alright_?

Honestly, it's not the question he'd been expecting to hear. In all truth, he knows that he's very much not alright. He managed to throw his feelings out there, built them up to something they weren't, and put them right in Akaashi's path for him to accidentally step all over. It was his fault, anyways. But he knows that Akaashi is asking about right now - if he's okay in this moment - and so he offers up the best that he can.

"Yeah, I'm fine."

Now he really expects Akaashi to inquire about the hiding-under-a-desk thing, and still the question never comes. Instead, Akaashi moves back to sit against the edge of his bed, still facing Bokuto. They're no more than a foot and a half apart, and Bokuto finds himself annoyed at the butterflies which swoop through his insides due to their close proximity.

Neither of them say anything for a while. They sit there in a blank sort of silence as the minutes tick by. Akaashi's gaze remains even but inquisitive, as if he's deciding each of his questions in advance. It's a waiting game, and Bokuto is never any good at those - his excitement always gets the best of him. This time, there's no excitement bubbling inside his stomach; it's only cold, curling dread. Eventually, Bokuto lets his head slump back against the leg of the desk, defeated.

He grows anxious under the stress, but the words and questions simmer on his tongue for as long as he can hold them there. His fingers trace listlessly over the floor, dragging back and forth in a slow, patternless drawl of skin against wood. Finally, when he can maintain his facade of nonchalance no longer, he turns to look at Akaashi again.

His eyes, that transfixing gunmetal shade, reveal no animosity or disgust. They're soft and kind. Bokuto gulps and steels himself, eyes fluttering shut with the effort for a moment before he pries them open once again.

"I'm sorry," he finally manages.

Akaashi tilts his head. "What do you have to feel sorry for?"

_Is he trying to kill me?_

Bokuto doesn't want to spell it out for him, even though it's obvious that the raven wants to hear a full apology. He deserves it, really; Bokuto came onto him unwarranted immediately after they had chased off some guy trying to do the same thing. 

He isn't sure how much of an explanation he'll be able to give. Hell, he's barely sorted things out himself. If all else fails, at least it's Akaashi - he will understand, because Akaashi always understands. He's one of the few people in on this planet who have never given up on trying to decipher Bokuto Koutarou, and for that, Bokuto will always be in his debt. 

So, because it's Akaashi and he will always deserve nothing less than the best that the world can give him, Bokuto meets his gaze. His insides curl with anxiety, but he steels the nerves that spark below his skin. "I'm sorry that I kissed you - like, the second time, when you weren't expecting it. I wasn't thinking clearly, and that's no excuse, but I just went for it. It was selfish and immature of me, and it wasn't fair to assume that you would want that. I took advantage of the situation, and that was really uncool."

Akaashi opens his mouth to speak, but Bokuto shakes his head. He needs to say this now, when he can. It isn't often that he thinks so carefully before he speaks, but if he wants to do anything right today, he needs to try in this moment.

"I want to be honest with you, and I know that things won't be the same after today, but you deserve to know." He inhales deeply, and his breath comes with too much effort. He feels tears threatening to well up again and hurriedly tries to blink them back. "I like you. No, wait - that's wrong, sorry."

"What do you mean?" Akaashi asks, eyebrows knit together in confusion.

Bokuto's chest is wound tight, and the words drag from his tongue like it's made of sandpaper. At the same time, as if his body is unaware of the situation he's in, his ears begin to heat at the tips. "I mean that I love you, Akaashi. I love you, and I don't know how long I have, but I know that I love you a lot. You're the person who makes me smile the widest and laugh the loudest and you're so, so _beautiful_ -"

The sob he's been pressing back rises in his stomach, and he talks faster to get all the words out before he breaks down again.

"You make me so happy every day, even when my shift at the cafe sucks or I don't get math problems right because I can't focus, and I want nothing more than to see you smile forever. You deserve so much - so much more than someone like me - and even though you probably don't feel the same, I still feel so lucky to have spent these months with you. You're responsible and smart and kind and you practically glow when you laugh and I'm really, really in love with you, so please just let me down nicely, okay?"

He almost laughs with it all, the ridiculousness of this moment, the way he has to speak around the lump in his throat. It's so far from what he had imagined the end of their story to be. And then, as if to mock the last shreds of pride he clings to, the corners of his vision grow blurry as tears flood his eyes and one threatens to drip down his cheek.

 _I've cried more today than I've cried in a whole year, probably_ , he thinks humorlessly, angling himself away from Akaashi so the raven can't see the way he scrunches up his face.

His hands come up to push the single tear away as it travels down his skin. He swipes at his eyes, ridding them of the excess wetness and dries his hands on the front of his shirt. He feels so lame. "I'm sorry - just ignore me, I'm a total mess and I have no idea why I'm being such a baby right now-"

He cuts off as he feels a pair of warm hands wrap around his own. His head turns as if it's on autopilot, eyes wide, to see Akaashi sitting much closer than before. His hands, slender and pale, clasp gently onto Bokuto's, and before he can ask what's going on, Akaashi lifts the palm of Bokuto's left hand up and presses a kiss to the skin there. It's soft and gentle and wholly confusing because while Bokuto had figured Akaashi would be nice in rejecting him, this is like, _weirdly_ nice.

He then does the same to the right palm, and then sets the left down gently in Bokuto's lap and leans in further. The blue-greens of his eyes sparkle sweetly and Bokuto is briefly reminded of summers spent at the ocean with his family, of days dancing in and out of lapping waves. Akaashi smiles, genuine and open, and takes Bokuto's right hand, pressing the palm of it to his cheek.

"Oh, Bokuto-san," he murmurs, sending crackles of electricity racing up and down Bokuto's spine, "you're so funny."

Akaashi's skin is soft to the touch, and Bokuto wants nothing more than to bask in his warmth. Before he can do that, he needs to sort things out; he's still reeling because this was not how he had expected things to go at all. 

"Why am I funny?" He asks, and Akaashi presses his hand even closer to his cheek.

The world has tipped on its head for the second time this evening, and Bokuto has absolutely no idea how to respond to it. He's been through such a rollercoaster of emotions within the span of three hours that at this point, he could probably be hit by a truck and brush it off as nothing to be surprised over. So he decides that all things considered, this is something that he should just let happen, no matter which way it goes. At least it's looking less bleak than it was before.

Akaashi lets out a small laugh. "You're funny because you kiss a guy, run out on him, let him search all over for you, and then tell him that you love him while you're curled into a ball under his desk."

Well, when it's put that way, Bokuto can kind of see how it would look a bit funny. "You looked for me?"

"Of course I did. I called each of your friends so much that they've probably grown sick of my voice."

"But why?" Bokuto cocks his head. He resists the urge to run his thumb across the expanse of smooth skin beneath the pads of his fingers. Before he can catch himself, he's already shuffling out a bit from under the desk, so they're only separated by a couple inches of hardwood flooring. His insides flutter more furiously now, but the dread is gone, replaced by a sugary rush of nervous excitement.

Akaashi rolls his eyes, though his lips split into another small smile. "Because I had something I wanted to say. You ran off before I could get a single word in, stupid."

"Rude," Bokuto obliges him. There's no real protest behind his words. "What did you want to tell me?"

There's no verbal response, no words uttered to clue him in as to what sort of response he'll receive. Despite this, he knows exactly what's about to happen, because he recognizes the look in Akaashi's eyes. They almost shimmer in the warm lighting of their dorm, tempting and inviting all at once; it's the same look that he'd had when they were in that tiny closet. Bokuto is sure that it's the same look he'd worn at the party earlier.

And so, when Akaashi releases his hand from his grasp and tips forward to press their lips together, he meets him midway. They share their first good, real kiss on the scuffed-up wooden floor of their university dorm, and Bokuto personally couldn't be happier about it. Impossibly, Akaashi's lips feel even softer than they were before. They taste sweeter, unsullied by lingering alcohol or the tang of blackberries gone sour.

He pushes forward to shift entirely out from under the desk and in turn, wraps a hand around a pale wrist to pull Akaashi closer to him. He tangles the other in inky black hair, twirling the locks around his fingers in an attempt to memorize the silky texture. Their chests bump together, and they linger there for another moment before breaking apart.

"I wanted to tell you that I love you," Akaashi smiles. "I love you very, very much."

It takes Bokuto about two seconds to process Akaashi's words before he tackles him in a hug and they both fall against the edge of the bed in a mess of laughter. His chest feels light, like he's made of air. He then remembers that he's significantly heavier than Akaashi is and moves to take his place, pulling the more slender of the two into a hug against him. The raven wraps his arms under Bokuto's shoulders and across his back, burying his face into the side of his neck.

"I love you, Akaashi!" Bokuto exclaims, voice rich with elation. He beams, pulling back to cradle Akaashi's face with both palms and leaning down to shower it with kisses. His lips press against the raven's forehead, then both eyelids, and then he moves down to kiss porcelain cheeks with all the excitement in the world. "I love you, I love you, I love you!"

Akaashi's smile is silken-soft and radiates light so warm that Bokuto can feel it seeping into his skin. "I love you too, Bokuto-san."

 _Bokuto-san?_

That won't do, not when Bokuto knows how lovely his name sounds when it leaves Akaashi's lips.

"Say my name," Bokuto prods him. He grins down at the raven and presses down the desire to deliver another lingering kiss to the tip of his nose. "My given name."

"Koutarou," Akaashi breathes, and tilts his head up for another kiss. Their lips meet and Bokuto can feel Akaashi's mouth breaking into a quiet smile. "I love you so much, Koutarou."

Oh, how Bokuto's heart feels like it could burst. He wants to lay there forever, trading kisses and declarations of love, their only company the soft trails of a guitar being strummed from the next dorm room over. But there's one more thing he wants. "Can I say yours, too?"

Akaashi leans against his chest, pressing his ear to the area right above his heart. "Please."

"Keiji," he sighs. "Keiji, you're going to kill me, you really are."

"I hope not," Akaashi chuckles. "I really don't want you to die before I can properly ask you to be my boyfriend."

For some reason, even given their situation, Bokuto had been entirely unprepared for that. His head shoots back in surprise and knocks against the bedframe. He winces and brings a hand up to rub at the back of his skull, but manages to cough out: "Your boyfriend?"

"Well, yeah, unless you were planning to tell me that we 'work better as friends,'" Akaashi teases. 

Bokuto wrinkles his nose. "Ew, no thanks."

"Good." Akaashi sits up to rest on his knees. His eyes scrunch at the corners with how widely he smiles, and it's larger than Bokuto has ever seen him smile before. He falls a little bit deeper in love at the sight of it. "Then, Koutarou, will you please be my boyfriend?"

"Yes!" Bokuto cheers. He then pauses as his face drops into a frown. "Aw, man. I wanted to totally lay the charm on you and romance you and stuff before I asked you to be my boyfriend! Now I screwed it all up and you had to ask me after I ran off and hid under your desk. That's so lame."

Akaashi's laugh perks him up again. It's ridiculous, how easily he can drag Bokuto out of his moods. It's like he has a list of problems and solutions stored up in his head somewhere. "I don't think you're lame. It's my fault, too. I shouldn't have been so slow to react when you kissed me - I overthink things too much."

"That's nothing, 'Kaashi! But mark my words, I'm going to romance the shit out of you from now on to make up for how badly I did at it before! Prepare yourself for the deluxe experience, alright?"

Bokuto means it. He kind-of-sort-of majorly botched the whole "finding the coolest, most absolutely romance-esque way to profess his feelings to Akaashi" thing, so he has to make up for it in spades now. Not that Akaashi is the sort of person to mind either way, but it's his personal duty as Akaashi's boyfriend (boyfriend!) to ensure that he gets the most love and appreciation possible.

"Alright," the raven acquiesces. "Now, come on. You haven't eaten in hours and you desperately need to change your shirt. It smells like sweat."

"If you wanted to see me shirtless, you could just say so!" Bokuto snickers, but he's quickly shot a frigid stare. Alright, so some things evidently wouldn't be changing all that much. "Fine, fine. I'll get changed."

\-----

As soon as Bokuto returns, clad in sweatpants and an old t-shirt, Akaashi makes him sit while he sets about boiling water. Half an hour later, he ladles out bowls of steaming soup that smell of a warm blend of spices and shallots, setting them both on their little table. The spoons clink against the wood merrily.

He moves to sit opposite Bokuto, but peers up inquisitively when he sees him stand and pull his chair around the corner of the table to sit closer. When asked about the new seating arrangement, Bokuto grins cheekily.

"I wanted to eat next to you, duh."

The soup is delicious and warms Bokuto from the inside out. It tastes homey, like something his mother would have made for him as a kid. When he tells Akaashi this, he's rewarded with the sight of a blush spreading across the the pale skin of his face. Akaashi kisses him on the cheek in return, and it conveys every ounce of his gratitude.

\-----

That night, they attempt to squeeze onto Bokuto's bed. It's a bit of a tight fit, but they end up comfortable, with Akaashi laying ever-so-slightly on top of him, curled against his chest.

Like this, Bokuto is able to breathe in the scent of his shampoo and Akaashi can listen to his heartbeat (which absolutely never elevates in tempo when their eyes meet - nope). _We fit like puzzle pieces_ , he notes, and is so overcome by a rush of emotion that he has to turn his head away or else explode with affection for the head of black hair which sighs contentedly against his chest.

Akaashi is the first to fall asleep, and Bokuto delights in hearing him snore softly within the cradle of his arms. Every time he mulls over the night's events, he pulls Akaashi closer and smiles into the soft tufts of black hair below his chin.

"I love you, Keiji," he mumbles as sleep begins to take him.

And he's not sure if his exhausted mind is playing tricks on him, but he could almost believe that just before he drifts off, he hears a faint "I love you, too."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> how was that? i hope it didn't have too many grammar and italics errors (i always manage to screw those up). but yeah, we did it! after what, like 84,000 words or something? god, i really put you guys through the slowest of burns. like i've said before, this story is going to continue - this isn't the end of it! i love them too much to give them up. 
> 
> i have to say, there were parts of this (like actual paragraphs) that have been sitting in a document on my notes app for MONTHS - and yes, i literally planned out and organized my story on the NOTES APP, so i think that speaks on how organized of a process this is. 
> 
> well, i love you guys! this has been a real pleasure to write so far and i hope that it's been a pleasure for you to read. thank you for letting me tell my story so far!


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which bokuto and akaashi act like losers in love and then act like losers in love a little more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes this chapter was entirely self-indulgent yes i was a day late uploading it let's DO THIS

Bokuto wakes up late the next morning. Really, it would be more accurate to say that he wakes up late and then has a mini internal freakout because there is a person in his bed (and he does not ever have people in his bed). Then he looks down and sees tresses of black hair splayed out across the expanse of his chest, and sighs as the night's events come flooding back. 

He resists the urge to run his fingers through Akaashi's hair and feel the softness of it beneath his fingers; immediately after, he realizes that this is immensely stupid because Akaashi is his boyfriend and he should take advantage of the benefits of that (namely, running fingers through his hair) as soon as possible. So, to his ever-increasing delight, he cards a hand across the back of Akaashi's head, indulging in the soft hums it elicits from the still-sleeping man next to him.

_God, why didn't I do this sooner?_

This is pure happiness, Grade-A Certified Joy. 

His dream was pleasant, too. He can't remember it all, only bits and pieces, but he knows that Akaashi was there, bathed in sunlight and smiling like he'd struck upon the greatest treasure in the world. Sure, he's had dreams like that before, but he'd only ever awoken to a mess of bedsheets and a pillow clutched tightly within his arms. Never has he woken up to find the real thing curled up at his side, real and tangible and smiling faintly against his chest. As if on cue, Akaashi's nose scrunches up and he burrows in closer. 

Bokuto must be the luckiest man in the world, because he's never met anyone as lovely and charming as Akaashi. 

Despite all this, he feels like there's something missing, something that he has left to do. _Ah_ , he muses. _I kind of left six different people hanging after disappearing into the night._

As carefully as he can, so as not to rouse Akaashi from his sleep (because he looks so cute that Bokuto might have a heart attack), he reaches to grab his phone from the table beside his bed. He silently opens their group chat to avoid typing out the same story multiple times - while last night was most definitely a success, the majority of his performance was arguably subpar. Also, he burst into tears like twelve million separate times. 

(10:23) hey hey hey guys

(10:23) Suga: _rather BOLD of you to lead with that after whatever stunt you pulled last night_

(10:24) Daichi: _He's cranky because his alarm went off too early this morning._

(10:25) Kuroo: _jesus christ u dropped off of the face of the earth bro_

(10:25) Kuroo: _mind filling us in as to why u had a teenage girl moment and ditched the party without saying anything?? are you ok???_

(10:25) yeah that wasn't my best moment

(10:25) but due to my effortless awesomeness i am totally ok!

(10:26) Oikawa: _if i don't get an explanation in five minutes i'm dragging you out of your dorm myself_

(10:27) Daichi: _You'd think Akaashi was going to pass out - he sounded really worried when he called us._

For whatever stupid reason, this prompts him to gaze down adoringly at the still-sleeping figure beside him. It's sweet that Akaashi was so concerned, even if it caused them both - and everyone else - a ridiculous amount of trouble. 

To ensure that Oikawa does not, in fact, come and drag him out of their dorm, he decides to offer up the last of his pride. He cringes when he tells them about the way he ran out and how he took a neighborhood-wide sulk tour afterward. Of course, he omits certain parts - the desk thing, for starters - but mostly sticks to the story. They interrupt with unprompted commentary throughout the whole thing, but it's really due to their interest more than anything else. 

Surprisingly, they don't tease. At least, not in the ways he doesn't deserve. They call him stupid and quick to make decisions, tell him that he needs to quit being so insecure, and decide that he's crazy, but these are all fully justified and without any malice. Regardless, they were definitely correct; he had been a stupid, insecure jackass, but things had turned out alright. 

It's worth all the quips and interruptions when he finally gets to the good bit. With this, he spares no details; those first few moments were probably some of the most rewarding of the last two years, and he's going to revel in them for as long as he possibly can. And of course, they indulge him for every second of it. Oikawa prods and prods for as much information as he can milk out of their conversation, and Suga cheers - like, literally sends long strings of "woo"s - every time he mentions a kiss. (He mentions them a lot, by the way.)

Of course, Kuroo is the most elated of all. Understandably so; he had to put up with Bokuto's ranting and raving every day, so naturally he'd be glad that something finally happened. Also, Kuroo is just an amazing friend and a super-cool dude, so he's supportive by nature. Bokuto makes a mental note to text him separately later and remind him of this fact. 

Akaashi begins to stir next to him as the flurry of texts finally begins to wind down in fervor. Bokuto quickly sets his phone down, unwilling to miss a moment of time spent watching the man beside him rouse from his sleep, and watches with a grin as inky eyelashes drowsily flutter open. 

"Hey, 'Kaashi," he coos, "did you sleep well?"

A slow, syrupy smile works its way across Akaashi's lips. He blinks, bringing a hand up to rub the sleep from his eyes. "Very. And yourself?"

"The best sleep I've had in ages," he replies, and pulls the other closer. 

He can't help it - he's giddy with happiness. Plus, Akaashi looks so soft and sweet when he's draped in the morning light that seeps through the blinds of the window. His eyes are quietly set aglow, pools of iridescent ocean water which ripple with contentment as he gazes up at the man holding him. 

Every time Bokuto looks at him, it feels like he notices more to love: the tiny scar under his right eyebrow, the way his hands are slightly larger than Bokuto's, the pieces of hair that curl at the tips under his ears and at the back of his neck. They're all so lovely, so unique to Akaashi, and Bokuto will never be able to get enough of them. 

So, because Bokuto is now the proud owner of Boyfriend Privileges, he opts to express his appreciation for them all. He winds a couple of lazy fingers through the hair that rests at Akaashi's nape and leans over to press a quick kiss to the area under his eyebrow, causing them both to avert their eyes and flush twelve shades of pink. He then remembers something Akaashi mentioned offhandedly a while back - something about disliking his hands. 

He will leave no part of Akaashi unappreciated. 

"Hey, 'Kaashi?"

"Mm?"

Bokuto searches for a slender hand for a moment, before pulling it up and out of the covers. "You said something about not liking your hands one time. What was that about?"

At this, Akaashi blushes again and tries to pull his hand back under the covers. Bokuto smiles wider and holds onto it, determined to see this through. "It's nothing, really."

"No, no. You gotta tell me, now," Bokuto goads him. "I won't make fun, I promise!"

Akaashi sighs. "I know you won't, it's just - ah, alright. It sounds so silly when I say it out loud, but I don't like that I have large hands. They look out-of-place and awkward."

"Awkward?" Bokuto gapes. He shakes his head vigorously. "That's the dumbest thing I've ever heard, and you know what our friends are like. I hear a lot of dumb things."

"Bokuto-san, you promised not to make fun-" 

"Hey, hear me out! I'd never make fun of your hands," Bokuto says, cocking his head (directly into the pillow). "I love your hands. They can hold mine - most people have hands smaller than me, so I never get to feel... I don't know, small? Your hands are the perfect size, just a little bit bigger than mine. It makes you the best person for me to hold hands with, and I think that it makes you even cooler."

Akaashi makes a noise that sounds like a half-assed groan, but Bokuto can see the way his lips quirk at the corners. "You're so weird."

"I know!" Bokuto chirps happily. 

"I fell in love with someone who compliments my hands," Akaashi sighs, but it isn't a sad-sounding sigh. Rather, it's one of pure contentment - at least, Bokuto hopes so.

"Yep!" He moves to interlock his fingers between Akaashi's. "And I'll compliment your hands whenever I get the chance, for as long as you let me."

Akaashi turns into his side with another pleased squirm. His voice is muffled by Bokuto's shirt. "Bokuto-san, please stop. I'm terrible with affection."

"Well get used to it, oh wonderful boyfriend of mine! You'll be getting lots of it from now on!"

For good measure (and because he just can't help it), he smacks another kiss on Akaashi's forehead. 

\-----

They end up cuddling in bed for another half an hour, pressing smiling lips to each other's temples and noses under the warm rays of the morning sun. Bokuto drinks up every moment like it'll be his last. 

Eventually, the time comes for them to wrench themselves out of bed. Regrettably, Bokuto has to work an afternoon shift at the cafe - it's not something that he minds often, but this means no flirting with Akaashi until later in the night. He's quickly found that flirting with Akaashi is one of his favorite pastimes, so this will be a palpable loss. 

However, this means that he gets to watch Akaashi get ready for the day without feigning nonchalance. 

It begins with Akaashi pulling his shirt up and over his head, revealing inch upon inch of smooth skin. Surprisingly, Bokuto doesn't find himself batting off any inappropriate thoughts at the sight; rather, he lets his gaze wander over the soft curves of Akaashi's shoulders and the dip at the small of his back with a silent reverence. His eyes catch on a birthmark on the raven's hip, no more than a small dot, and feels his chest swell with even more affection; everything about the man before him is so unique, so effortlessly lovely. 

He finally manages to tear his eyes away from the radiant figure standing in the pool of sunlight in their sleeping area and pads determinedly into the kitchen to make them both coffee. They enjoy their breakfast in a quiet fashion, even though Bokuto spills lukewarm coffee on his hand once or twice. He has to be extra careful when holding his mug, as it's clutched in his left hand rather than his right. 

(His right hand is, of course, occupied by Akaashi's left under the table). 

\-----

"And then what?" Hinata's eyes gleam with excitement. "When did he kiss you?"

Bokuto's laugh rings jovially over the faint music that floats through Fukurodani's interior. A couple of customers scattered around nearby tables glance over for a moment, but he pays them no mind. "I'm getting there, I'm getting there! That comes after the desk thing."

"You two had better not be ignoring any customers," Suga warns from Bokuto's left, but his grin betrays his otherwise stern tone. 

Hinata mock-salutes before turning back to Bokuto. "Okay, so then what happened?"

Bokuto tells him the whole of the story while they pour cream into steaming lattes and wrap up freshly-warmed baked goods. Hinata nods along, eyes widening with each development, paying such rapt attention to his words that he nearly tips a jar of sugar over in his frenzy to finish off an iced coffee. 

All in all, it's been a good shift so far. Bokuto loves talking about Akaashi, and has for a long while now, but he finally has a genuine excuse to always be chattering on about him. Naturally, he embellishes the story in places - makes their kiss more dramatic and the outside weather more fitting to his mood, et cetera - and the redhead soaks up every word of it. 

Of course, he still falters at wording things sometimes. 

"You _slept with him_?" Hinata gapes with a too-loud whisper, eyebrows shooting up to rest high on his forehead. 

At this, Suga whips his head around sharply, and Bokuto gulps, feeling the tips of his ears heat with embarrassment. He must be a wonderful cherry shade right now.

"No, no, no no no! We didn't like, _sleep together_! He fell asleep cuddling me - totally G-rated!" Bokuto sputters. He waves his hands frantically, trying to convince Suga, who looks like he's trying to decide between being utterly scandalized and ridiculously proud. 

It seems that Suga chooses the latter, and Bokuto watches in mute horror as a slow smirk creeps its way up his lips. "Aw now, Bokuto, don't be shy! Sex is perfectly normal in the lives of any adult couple. I'm glad that you and Akaashi were so unafraid to take the next step in your relationship so quickly!"

"I'm telling you, you have it totally skewed, man!" Bokuto squawks, face growing impossibly hotter. They're incredibly lucky that it's a slow hour right now. 

Suga grins broadly. "It's alright, no need to lie to me. I know that look! Daichi was the same way after our first-"

"Your first what?" Akaashi asks from across the counter, head tipped to the side in interest. "Hello Suga, hello Hinata."

Bokuto would give a hundred billion yen to melt into a puddle on the floor. He has never been less excited to be a part of a group conversation with Akaashi. Never ever.

Hinata and Suga chorus a greeting, and Bokuto manages a tiny wave. Maybe if he got a running start and really gave it his all, he could try to jump over the counter and make it out of the cafe without any further questioning. Suga shoots Bokuto a sly eyebrow wiggle before opening his mouth to speak. Bokuto, never one to pass up an opportunity, lunges and clamps a hand over his coworker's lips. 

"He didn't know what he was talking about," Bokuto chuckles nervously, sending Suga the best eye-lasers he's capable of producing. 

"He's pretty sure that you guys had sex!" Hinata chirps at the same time, and Bokuto barely resists the urge to smack him over the head with a bagel. 

It's now Akaashi's turn to flush red. His voice drops to a hushed timbre. "If you're talking about last night, we fell asleep in the same bed. That's all."

"See?" Bokuto whisper-screams, removing his hand from Suga's face. "I told you so! Now will you please let me take Akaashi's order since he was nice enough to visit me at work?"

Suga shrugs, but he still somehow manages to look immensely pleased with himself. "Suit yourselves. We'll let you two lovebirds be."

Bokuto heaves a deep sigh as Hinata is unceremoniously dragged to the drinks station. He flicks his eyes up to meet Akaashi's where they sit behind polished reading glasses, and they both stare at each other for a moment before breaking into a bout of giggles. 

"Sorry about that," Bokuto says between breaths. His smile stretches wide and genuine. "But you came to see me on my shift!"

Akaashi smiles back, adjusting his glasses on the bridge of his nose. The lenses dance with speckles of light. "Well, I wanted to get some reading done and I - ah - I missed you already." 

Bokuto's sure that the butterflies swooping in his lungs are never going to go away; not today, not tomorrow, not in a month. If Akaashi's around, they will be too, growing in number with every loving glance sent his way. He finds himself extremely tempted to lurch across the granite counter and wrap his boyfriend in a bone-crushing hug, but even he knows that it would be a violation of workplace etiquette. 

"I missed you too," he beams, unbridled affection seeping deeper into his tone with every word. "Now, 'Kaashi, what can I get for you?" 

When Akaashi is finished with the process of ordering, paying, and accepting his coffee from Hinata (who has carefully doodled a flurry of hearts around two stick figures holding hands on the cardboard rim), he spares one last smile in Bokuto's direction before weaving between chairs to sit at a table in the corner of the cafe. 

As expected, Bokuto is unable to keep his eyes off of Akaashi's form for the following hour and a half. Suga tuts at him whenever he catches Bokuto's focus zipping away from the register, but Bokuto pays him little mind (of course, it's all for show - Suga was the same way whenever Daichi stopped by). 

Their eyes meet, every now and then, and Bokuto takes immense satisfaction in the knowledge that his unyielding attraction to the other isn't one-sided. Akaashi's lovely blue-green eyes, framed by fluttering lashes, drift up from the pages of his book to meet Bokuto's adoring gaze, causing them both to smile down at the floor below. 

Bokuto would focus if he could, for real. But how can he, when his devastatingly handsome boyfriend is so calmly reading a book less than fifty feet away? His fingertips drag so artfully across its pages, rounded nails tapping on the table in front of him, eyes flickering from one word to the next at an impossible speed. Both the size of the book and the speed at which he reads it betray Akaashi's incredible intelligence.

 _He's so beautiful_ , Bokuto thinks dreamily as the raven takes a small sip of his drink. It leaves a cloud of foam near his bottom lip and he swipes it away with an index finger. _Smart and beautiful and my boyfriend!_

Eventually, Akaashi closes his book with a satisfied smile. Bokuto's heart squeezes in his chest when he stands and approaches the register, book tucked safely under one arm. 

"The coffee was great, thank you," Akaashi says, lips tilted upward at the corners. "By the way, Kuroo asked if we wanted to 'celebrate our success' with a movie at their dorm. Should I say yes?"

Bokuto grins widely. "Of course! I should be thanking him in person for all his help lately, anyways."

"Help with what?"

It is immediately evident that Akaashi knows exactly what. Unfortunately for Bokuto, he's dating a bit of a sadist who takes immense pleasure in watching him flounder, so this will definitely be something he'll be teased about later. "Uh-"

"Only kidding," Akaashi chuckles. He and Suga share an amused glance over Bokuto's shoulder. "I'll see you at home, then?"

Bokuto sighs happily. "Yeah. See you at home!"

He watches his boyfriend's retreating form with what Suga is quick to call "disgusting heart eyes." Bokuto is even quicker to remind him that he's been putting up with Suga's so-called "disgusting heart eyes" for a very long time and with few complaints, and the shorter man quiets with a halfhearted scowl. 

The music that plays through the speakers floats cheerily through the airy cafe. Somehow, Bokuto is in an even better mood than he was before; he punches the keys in the register with a broad smile for every customer and hums to himself when he wipes down tables. The sunlight outside begins to fade into a rich purple hue, and when the twinkling market lights around the cafe's exterior blink to life, he finds himself admiring them fondly. 

Kageyama stops by toward the end of his shift. Hinata bounces over, suddenly much fuller of energy than he was ten minutes before, and Bokuto sidesteps for him to take the register. The two chatter on for a couple of minutes, eagerly swapping carefree banter from across the counter. Hinata's amber eyes, blown huge in the throes of conversation, are for a moment startlingly similar to the lights which illuminate the sidewalk outside with their warm summer glow. 

Hinata even insists on making Kageyama's drink, assuring Bokuto that it has to be "just right," because the "big weirdo" is keeping score of whether or not he likes the drinks he makes. Apparently, he's become a regular, determined to judge every drink on Fukurodani's menu. 

Bokuto has a sneaking suspicion that Kageyama likes every drink. His reaction is always the same: eyes blinking slowly upon the first sip, shoulders melting downward as stress falls from his back, jaw unclenching bit by bit as he empties the cup of its contents.

Of course, he doesn't tell this to the redhead. That's for Hinata to figure out himself. 

\-----

Coming home to Akaashi is something that he's been doing for months now, but it's now taken on a whole other depth. Bokuto knocks on their front door, painfully aware of the dorky grin plastered across his face, and feels it widen further when Akaashi pulls the door open.

"Hey," he says intelligently.

"Hi," Akaashi breathes. 

In one sweeping motion, Bokuto steps inside, toes off both shoes, and pulls his boyfriend into a bear hug. A moment passes, and then Akaashi melts into the embrace; his hands come up to press around Bokuto's back as his head falls onto his shoulder. 

They stand there for a moment before Akaashi finally unwraps himself from Bokuto and smiles gently. 

"You should go get changed out of your work clothes," he says, dry mirth glittering in his eyes. "I like the whipped cream stain across your front, by the way. Nice touch." 

Bokuto glances down and grimaces at the smattering of white down his chest. "Thanks. I try my best."

Kuroo had told Akaashi to "prepare for a celebration" before they arrived, so they leave the dorm a few minutes earlier to stop by a small store off-campus to buy a small case of beer. The cans clink merrily against one another in the bag Bokuto carries in one hand. 

They don't quite hold hands on the walk there - it's too foreign, too exciting to be done outside of private quarters - but Bokuto smiles a little wider every time he feels Akaashi's slender finger brush against one of his knuckles. Once or twice, he taps the raven's wrist with a stray pinky (entirely by accident, of course) and allows himself to relish in the way the other glances discreetly in his direction. 

He likes the attention. 

The two arrive at the dorm a few minutes behind schedule, but Kuroo is no slower to fling the door open than usual. A triumphant grin works its way across his face in a fraction of a second, showcasing pointed canines. 

"Congratulations, boys!" Kuroo cheers. 

Bokuto immediately moves in for a fierce high-five, still-there elation pooling in his chest. "Thanks, bro!"

Inside, Kenma is seated on the floor, immersed the light that flickers from the screen of his PSP. When they enter he peers upward, golden eyes scanning them up and down momentarily, before he relaxes once again. His PSP is pocketed, probably thanks to Kuroo and the speech he had inevitably delivered regarding the importance of this celebration prior to their arrival. 

"After all the pep talks we gave you, I had thought you'd at least be the one to take the first step," he murmurs with an air of faux disdain. 

Akaashi chuckles beside Bokuto. "He was so obvious, too. I thought he was finally going to cave sooner or later."

Bokuto gapes at the both of them, then turns pleading eyes in Kuroo's direction. "I kissed him first! That has to count as the first move!!"

Kuroo shrugs noncommittally. "I dunno, man. You totally ran out on him afterward, so I don't think it counts entirely."

 _Oh, so he's done being my super-supportive wingman as soon as I get the guy, huh?_

"You suck at backing me up!"

"I was just saying, man!"

Akaashi clears his voice above their commotion, clearly hoping to dissuade any further pointless arguments as quickly as possible, but he muffles a chiming laugh behind the back of his hand. "Regardless, the point is that I had to be the one to step it up. He did promise to romance me, though."

Bokuto straightens up from his previous position (namely, getting into Kuroo's face as close as he possibly can) and places both hands on his hips. His chest swells with pride and he draws back his shoulders to broaden his stature. "Hell yeah, I did! Watch and learn, bro. Tonight it begins!"

"Please, no," Kenma groans from his seat on the floor. 

"What he said," Kuroo echoes. 

Bokuto loops an arm through Akaashi's. "Prepare for the most romantic night of our relationship thus far, 'Kaashi!"

"Considering that the only other night of our relationship began with you leaving me stranded at a party and deciding that I probably hated you, the bar isn't too high," Akaashi muses around a laugh. 

Bokuto's face to drops into a betrayed scowl as his arms come up to flail in the air for a moment. "Is nobody on my side?"

\-----

In true Kuroo and Kenma fashion, the four of them end up on the couch watching a movie. This time around, when it becomes clear that the four of them can't sit side by side, Bokuto is extremely eager to offer his lap up as a viable seat for Akaashi to use. He voices this idea with a booming laugh, only half-serious, so when Akaashi nods after a brief moment of contemplation he feels himself blanch. 

"Really?" He blurts out amid Kuroo's immediate outburst of wolf whistles. 

Akaashi feigns nonchalance, but he turns his head ever so slightly to allow Bokuto to see the teasing smirk that pulls at the corners of his lips. "I mean, yes, unless there's some sort of issue. Am I too heavy, Bokuto-san?"

Bokuto's face, previously drained of color, flushes red again. "What - no! That's not what I meant!" 

"Jeez, Bo, I didn't think that 'romancing' your boyfriend involved calling him too heavy to sit on your lap for a movie, but to each their own I guess," Kuroo scoffs, nudging Bokuto with an elbow. Kenma tries and fails to hide his snicker with a fake cough. 

"I wasn't calling him heavy!" Bokuto cries, and in an instant is pulling Akaashi onto his lap. "See? Perfectly fine!" 

"Success," Akaashi chuckles, and dutifully high-fives Kuroo. 

Kenma quirks an eyebrow from the end of the couch. "Nice maneuver."

Akaashi acknowledges this with a nod, taking a moment to grace Bokuto with another one of those life-changing smiles of his before he leans back against Bokuto's broad chest and sighs contentedly. 

"All that guilt tripping just for me to do something that I already wanted to do?" Bokuto sighs, pretending to shake his head against the nape of his boyfriend's neck. Akaashi jolts a tiny bit at the sensation, turning to fix him with an iron stare which quickly evaporates into fondness. 

"Yeah, I did." Akaashi presses a quick kiss to his temple. "I'll do it again, too."

Kenma groans again. "Alright, can we start the movie now? You guys are so gross."

"Hear hear!" Kuroo calls, but shoots Bokuto a congratulatory wink which is quickly returned. 

\-----

Halfway into the movie, Akaashi is draped across his lap, nose nuzzling into the broad expanse of his chest. Blue-green eyes remain focused on the screen, but Bokuto's gaze can never stay focused on the movie for too long before he finds it drifting downward to his boyfriend's head. Bokuto is ultimately a very weak man, so he frequently brings a hand up to run it through the inky locks. 

On the other side of the couch, Kuroo and Kenma have abandoned any pretense of sitting separately and are instead sprawled out across one another. Kenma's legs are thrown over the other's lap, while Kuroo's head rests contentedly on his shoulder. Every now and then, one of them will shift in his spot, causing the other one to peer over in what he must think is an incredibly covert manner. (It's never very covert for either of them, but Kuroo is even worse at pulling it off.)

At the movie's end, it's even more of a mess; Bokuto's hand is combing through Akaashi's hair without stopping, only pausing to feel its texture between two fingers, while Akaashi has all but buried his nose into Bokuto's shirt, soft breaths puffing through the fabric (Bokuto is extremely glad that he put on extra deodorant tonight). Kenma's entire lower body is slung across Kuroo's, while Kuroo's whole forehead is pressed up against the expanse of the smaller man's neck. 

The two pairs are maybe four inches apart from being a giant dogpile, really. 

The credits begin to roll, but it's another few minutes before Akaashi begins to peel himself off of Bokuto's chest. Bokuto fights off a flash of disappointment at the sudden weightlessness and immediately brightens up again when he remembers that they can keep doing this exact thing at home. Maybe he can convince Akaashi to watch a nature documentary and cuddle together. He could probably pull it off.

"I think we're gonna get going," Akaashi says quietly to Kenma, who nods. Kuroo flashes a thumbs-up. Neither of them make any effort to move from their current position. 

Bokuto grins down at them with an eyebrow wiggle. "Have fun, guys!"

"Will do," Kuroo drawls. He drops his hand across his stomach, fingertips just grazing Kenma's side. "Congrats on finally doing what we've been awaiting for the last like, month, Akaashi!"

He receives a small smile in response. "I'm willing to bet that I'd been waiting for it longer."

With that, Akaashi slips into his shoes and pulls the door open. He motions for Bokuto to follow, who quickly shuffles out after them, waving excitedly at the two curled up on the couch before leaving. His face feels hot, somehow, and he's pretty sure that it has something to do with the fact that _Akaashi had been waiting for something to happen between them for a while_. 

But Bokuto is attempting to appear cool at least one-third of the time, so he squashes the urge to ask Akaashi about it as soon as the door closes.

\-----

He inevitably caves and asks Akaashi half an hour later, when they're cuddled up together watching a nature documentary on coral reefs. 

"How long have I seen you in a romantic way?" Akaashi hums, tone light and lilting. "Maybe I'll let you know when we go on our first date."

_First date?_

Bokuto's pretty sure that the room's temperature managed to shoot up twenty degrees in the past two seconds; the tips of his ears are set aflame, and it looks like Akaashi is fighting to keep an embarrassed smile from creeping up his lips. Oh, fuck yes. He's going on a date with the Akaashi Keiji - and then probably another, and another after that, and even more later!

He reaches over to snatch his phone from the table beside the couch; fingers fly across the keyboard in an attempt to type out a reminder to plan a date as soon as he wakes up in the morning. That date is gonna be the best date of Akaashi's whole life up until this point. 

"Deal!" Bokuto chirps, smacking an excited kiss to Akaashi's cheek.

They both turn, faces hot and red. 

But really - how did he end up this lucky? Bokuto is a loud, overly excitable, frequently-in-distress-over-what-to-make-for-dinner psychology major who sucks at math and jumps at horror movies. Akaashi, on the other hand, is... Akaashi. Everything about him is perfect, even the things that he doesn't like (like the way he sometimes snorts when he laughs too hard - it probably double's Bokuto's lifespan every time he hears it). 

While he doesn't understand it, he sure as hell isn't going to take it for granted. He's been given the romantic opportunity of a lifetime - even if Akaashi is completely unwilling to acknowledge it as such - and he's going to cherish it for every moment that he can. Also, he isn't going to be shy with the confessions. Those always get the pretties blushes of soft pinkness to bloom across the apples of Akaashi's cheeks. 

Speaking of:

"I love you!" Bokuto says into his shoulder, lips already breaking into a wide grin.

As expected, Akaashi flushes a brilliant rosy shade. "Bokuto-san, I know you do that to fluster me."

Bokuto pretends to consider this before nodding his head a few times. "Yep!" he agrees, popping the "p."

A sigh from the man next to him. Bokuto is just about to claim his newest victory when Akaashi is shifting, lifting himself up off of the couch to swing a leg over Bokuto's lap. His new position puts his face right in front of Bokuto's, straddling his thighs but keeping his weight shifted into his heels (seemingly so as to keep his position as chaste as possible). Bokuto feels his heart begin to race, breaths stuttering in his chest at their proximity and the manner in which Akaashi's blue-green eyes catch the light in the most beautiful way possible. 

Akaashi leans down, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of Bokuto's mouth. He leans back with a sweet smile, glittering and beautiful and so very Akaashi. Bokuto finds himself overwhelmed by how stunning his boyfriend is for the twelfth time that day.

"I love you too," Akaashi says casually before swinging himself back over to his place on the couch.

It takes four full seconds for Bokuto to react. His mouth drops open, probably resembling that of a very stunned fish. "What did you just- _huh_? Where did that come from?"

Akaashi's eyes glimmer with victorious mirth. "I have to remind you that you're not the only one to do any romancing here, you know."

"But that was like, wow! Do I have to start surprising you into silence with how charming I am, too?" 

"I would like to see whatever attempts you make at that, actually."

"The way you said that makes me think you were making fun of me, 'Kaashi."

"Only a little bit."

Bokuto lets his head flop back against Akaashi's shoulder. He pauses to shoot an adoring smile upward. "You're so mean to me."

"It's only because I love you, Bokuto-san."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> howdy! so yeah, sorry for breaking my one-week-upload streak. two-day power outages will do that to your schedule, believe it or not. 
> 
> yeah, this had no real plot relevance other than setting the mushy, sappy precedent for their relationship moving forward. but i liked writing it, so hey, no real losses here! thanks for reading this chapter :))
> 
> oh ALSO: i get a lot of my fluff-inspo-mood stuff from @/kennnajean on twitter because her bkak art is incredible and soft and lovely so if you want any beautiful bkak art then i highly recommend checking her out!


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which bokuto and akaashi become koutarou and keiji.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello hello hello it's been three weeks and i still love them to death :)

It's been three days of planning and preparing and preening, three days during which time Bokuto has written an endless expanse of notes down and consulted every love expert he knows (read: his dumbass friends) to get the perfect date down. He's spent ridiculous amounts of time pacing the floor of their dorm and gnawing on the end of pencils - much to Akaashi's chagrin whenever he finds their pencils covered in teeth marks - deep in thought, his only company sappy love songs playing from his phone. 

He's probably never put so much thought into one thing in such a consistent manner, aside from volleyball. 

Now, it's 6:00 in the evening following an unusually cool summer day, and he's checking himself over in the mirror for what must be the seven millionth time in the last half hour. His hair is teased into place in a gently-tousled fashion, and his face has been scrubbed clean long ago. He brushes his teeth again, just for good measure, before moving on to make sure that his outfit is suitable. 

A navy blue button-up and charcoal-colored pants frame his build, rumpled slightly so as to give the illusion of a casual choice. Akaashi doesn't need to know how much time he's spent panicking over what to wear. The shirtsleeves are neatly buttoned around his wrists, silver cufflinks glittering in the quiet light of their dorm, and he's spritzed himself lightly with cologne. He looks good, at least to himself, but he sends Kuroo a picture to make doubly sure that he's not just hallucinating. 

Kuroo responds in a flash, quick to assure him that he looks great and that Akaashi will be "absolutely obsessed." Bokuto doubts that Akaashi is much obsessed with anything at all, much less him, but he lets the encouragement sit warm in his chest. 

Akaashi should be back any minute now. Bokuto's barely seen him at all today - he had to leave early in the morning to run a few errands and after that Bokuto had to leave to work a shift at the cafe - but that's done nothing other than fuel the excitement that races through his veins. When he came home, Akaashi was over at Oikawa's place to help with a bit of redecorating. Apparently Oikawa was in dire need of a drastic change in color scheme (in order to have control over something tangible in his frantic life), lest he go insane and try to kill a tiger with his bare hands or something. 

Not that Oikawa would feasibly be able to, but he would probably at least have the self-awareness to make sure that his screams sounded nice when he went down. 

Bokuto plops down on his bed and within a moment begins to pluck at a couple of stray threads that poke out of the cover. His entire body is abuzz with a delightful mixture of nervousness and elation, and he makes no attempt to squash it. It's not every day that one gets to take someone like Akaashi Keiji out on a date, so nerves are probably to be expected. Just as he's about to tug on a third thread, the sound of a lock turning prompts him to shoot his eager gaze upward. 

Akaashi steps into their dorm with a small smile and hair that falls playfully in sweeping waves across his forehead. He's wearing a cream turtleneck underneath a chestnut overcoat, its edges draping just above his knees. Light brown pants tuck neatly above a pair of black dress shoes, both classy and simple in their charm. Best of all, a pair of half-frame glasses sit perched atop his nose, magnifying the multicolored irises that lay behind them. He looks jaw-droppingly handsome. 

What Kuroo had evidently failed to guess was that Bokuto was more likely to be "absolutely obsessed" with the sight of Date Night Akaashi. 

" _Wow_ ," Bokuto breathes, eyes stretched wide. 

Akaashi chuckles. "I could say the same. You look incredible."

Bokuto shakes his head as he gets up off of the bed, still undoubtedly wearing some ridiculous stunned expression. "No, no. You look so - jeez - _so good_! Did Oikawa help you get ready?"

"What, do I need Oikawa's help to look nice?" Akaashi waves Bokuto off with a hand as soon as he opens his mouth to voice his vehement disagreement. "I'm kidding. I already had these clothes, but he helped me choose exactly what to wear and helped me with my hair."

Bokuto shakes his head again, this time in disbelief. He breaks into a wide grin, clasping both hands together in front of his chest. "Will I get to steal a single pre-date kiss from my incredible boyfriend? You know, for good luck?"

Akaashi fakes an exasperated sigh, opening his arms with a pleased eye-roll and a "fine, come here."

Bokuto is quick to accept the invitation, gathering the raven up in a tight hug and pressing a smattering of kisses to his forehead and cheeks. He's careful to avoid the hair, because messing up any of Akaashi's current appearance should count not only as a crime against humanity, but against the universe itself. When he's satisfied with the amount of love showered upon the rest of Akaashi's face, he pulls back before pressing one against soft pink lips. 

Without further do, he unlatches himself from Akaashi and grabs his keys from his pocket. "That felt very lucky. Ready to be spoiled, 'Kaashi?"

"Well, if it's by you, then I guess it'll be alright," Akaashi smiles, and loops his arm around Bokuto's. 

\-----

The yakiniku restaurant they arrive at is a twenty-minute walk from campus, give or take. Its interior glows softly with warm light and quiet chatter floats out to the sidewalk. The door is barely open a fraction of an inch, but Bokuto drinks in the smells of meat and cooking vegetables with a satisfied smile. He owes Daichi about three million for telling him about this place - it's perfect. 

Akaashi peers inside. The restaurant's patrons all seem to be dressed in the same level of semi-formal wear that they are, the occasional college couple among them. He turns his kind eyes to Bokuto, who's trying to fight down the pride bubbling in his chest. "It looks very nice in there."

"Right?" Bokuto chimes, stepping aside to pull the door open. He flourishes grandly with his free arm. "After you."

His date steps inside with a small laugh, nodding his thanks. Meats sizzle and ice cubes clink together merrily at the tables scattered across the restaurant's interior. The wait staff slip easily between chairs carrying bottles of wine and glasses that reflect the flickering light of candles perched atop tables. 

A hostess approaches with an easy, practiced smile, leading them to a table near the center of one large room. Bokuto makes extra sure to pull Akaashi's chair out for him, and in return he's graced with a quirk of the lips that makes his heart flutter deep in his chest. They're left with menus bound in deep red material and traced in fine lines of gold paint. 

They're supposed to be deciding which drinks they'd like, but as per usual, Bokuto can't take his eyes off of the man sitting opposite himself. Akaashi's face is painted in dancing strokes by the quiet flame of the candle between them; they dance across the bridge of his nose and the apples of his cheeks, and he looks even lovelier than he did in their dorm. Everything about him is stunning and seamlessly graceful, like he was supposed to be part of a richly-colored oil painting rather than the real world. He moves with poise that Bokuto could never dream of possessing. 

"-water."

Bokuto blinks rapidly. "Sorry, what?"

"I said, 'I think I'm just going to get water,'" Akaashi reprises. The amused gleam in his eyes tells Bokuto that his staring was none too covert.

He rubs the back of his neck sheepishly, attempting to play it off with a grin. "Oh, yeah! Me too."

A server appears, scribbling down appetizers and promising to return quickly with their waters. Bokuto takes the opportunity to gaze adoringly across the table while Akaashi talks momentarily with her. He's polite with her, but not stiffly so; Bokuto's glad, because he can't stand when people are cold to wait staff. It makes him uncomfortable. He tends to do the opposite: talk with them so much that he has to be reminded that they're not his friends but rather people trying to do their jobs. 

She returns with their waters and asks if they'd like to wait until after their appetizers to order their entrees. Bokuto glances at Akaashi, who nods his affirmation, and tells her that they would with a broad smile. He's secretly grateful for this, as it means that he'll have more of an opportunity to chat with Akaashi in the meantime. 

They find themselves falling into natural conversation like they would back home. Bokuto had been worried that he'd clam up in the face of true romance itself, but this is no different than other conversations they've had. Akaashi is his usual intelligent self, and Bokuto finds no lack of conversation topics to keep them busy. 

He learns that Akaashi's always wanted a cat. A long-haired white one, to be exact, who he can read with and pet when he's worrying about one thing or another. Bokuto sees it in his mind's eye already - they'd make a wonderful pair - and makes a silent promise that if they last long enough, he's going to adopt a pet cat for Akaashi. 

This traitorous glimmer of hope which whispers so alluringly about a future to be had together is one which he often tries to bat off. Bokuto's not an idiot. He knows that it's foolish to plan ahead for something that very well may not happen - his long-term relationships have been very few and very, _very_ far between - but that doesn't completely squash his daydreams when they pop up. 

It's pointless to worry about such things now. If Bokuto wastes his time thinking and re-thinking about things that may or may not come to pass, he'll miss what he has right now. Right now, he's in love with the most incredible man the entire hemisphere, and he'll be damned if he lets someone like Akaashi go due to his own ignorance. 

So, when he peeks over the top of his menu to sneak another glance at Akaashi, he doesn't feign innocence upon being caught. Rather, he sets the menu down and glances around momentarily before he blows a kiss. Akaashi brings a hand up to catch it. He presses it right to his chest, and Bokuto barely resists the urge to douse himself with his glass of water. 

Their meals are, to put it simply, amazing. The meat is fresh and flavorful, splitting apart easily under their gentle ministrations. Bokuto munches happily on his food, always eager to offer some to Akaashi. Every now and then, the raven accepts, and makes sure to tell him how delicious it is each time. 

"Make sure not to eat so much that you're completely full!" Bokuto says with an eyebrow wiggle as Akaashi tucks into another bit of meat. 

Akaashi chews for a moment and swallows before answering. "I won't, Bokuto-san, don't worry."

After Akaashi is done putting away a surprising amount of food (really, for someone so slim he eats like a man starved), it comes time to pay, and they both reach for their wallets. Bokuto frowns, cocking his head in mild confusion. 

"Akaashi," he begins carefully, "you aren't actually going to try to pay for this, are you?"

His boyfriend regards him with a mixture of kindness and exasperation. "Yes, I am. I ate more than you, and while you might think I'm not financially equipped to handle date costs, I can assure you that-"

Bokuto shakes his head, cutting him off. "It's not that, 'Kaashi! It's that you're my date, and I want to pay for you because I want to treat you to a nice night together. I know you're able to do and pay for things, so take me out for ice cream sometime in return, okay?"

A moment of quiet passes before Akaashi's blue-greens flick up to meet his. "Okay," he acquiesces with a small smile.

"Great!" Bokuto crows, whisking out his credit card. He cringes at the decibel of his voice, and shrinks down into his shoulders for a moment to avoid the questioning gazes of other patrons. "I mean, great."

\-----

Their next stop is a small cafe a few minutes away (not Fukurodani, unfortunately). Hinata had recommended it due to a large selection of cakes and sweet things, because what's more romantic than sharing a slice of cake together? 

The bell on the door announces their arrival, causing the man behind the counter to spin around from where he was checking something along the back wall. "Hello!"

"Hi!" Bokuto says, taking a moment to marvel at the colorful array of cakes that sit in the display case. Some are plain to the eye, covered simply in a layer of pale frosting, no doubt delicious in their own right. Others are brighter, trimmed with sage greens and light pinks, swirling patterns traced along the sides. 

The man behind the counter - _Takeda_ , his nametag reads - adjusts his glasses with a good-natured smile. "How can I help you?"

Bokuto, in a moment of courage, grabs ahold of Akaashi's hand, pulling him fractionally closer. "We'd like to have a bit of cake, but we've never been here before."

"Is there anything you would recommend?" Akaashi asks, causing Takeda to straighten up further. 

He taps his chin thoughtfully before nodding to himself. "I particularly like the vanilla and cherry - the drizzle across the top is made here, in the cafe! It's also very pretty to look at and it's not too heavy."

Bokuto's never had a vanilla and cherry cake before, but upon seeing the excited glimmer that flicks across Akaashi's face, he decides that he will not rest until they try some. "That sounds good!"

A few minutes later, they're settled at a cream-colored table in matching blue chairs. Takeda was correct; the cake is quite pretty. The slice that sits between them is covered in white frosting with a deep crimson drizzle lacing that winds delicately along the top. Layers of cake are separated by bands of the same crimson color on the inside. 

"Here," Bokuto says, pushing the plate slightly across the table. "You take the first bite."

Akaashi gazes kindly at him, all grace and faint cologne. "Thank you."

And oh, Bokuto wishes he had all the money in the world. He'd work for a million lifetimes, if it meant that he could buy Akaashi a slice of vanilla and cherry cake a day for the rest of his life. The way Akaashi's mouth curves into a slight smile around his fork is heart-burstingly soft, and the little _mm!_ sound that escapes makes it all that much harder for Bokuto to not reach across the table and kiss the sugar from his lips. 

"You try," Akaashi says finally, when he's done, and Bokuto feels lighter than air. 

"Okay!" He chirps, because it's all he can do without passing out from the whirlwind of happiness that swoops in his chest. 

It's sweet and smooth and rich on his tongue, light cream and cherry tang that sits happily in his mouth as the fork leaves his mouth. Akaashi looks at him expectantly as he chews, as if waiting for a verdict. Bokuto swallows and gives him an enthusiastic thumbs-up. "That was so good!" 

All the fragments of sweetness and sugar left on Bokuto's tongue pale in the light of Akaashi's gently-glowing smile. 

\-----

The walk to the hill behind the library is quick. Bokuto tugs at Akaashi's hand to urge him faster, faster, unwilling to miss a single second of their precious time together. Eventually, he pauses where he stands, whirling around and planting his hands upon his hips. He stares at Akaashi's slim frame for a moment, gears whirring in his brain, before he wheels back around and crouches. 

"What exactly are you doing?"

"Giving you a piggyback ride. Climb on, 'Kaashi!" 

A huffing laugh from behind him. "I'm too heavy for that."

"No you're not! Come on, let me try! What's the use of working out if I can't even give my boyfriend a piggyback ride?"

He crouches there expectantly for another moment, though Akaashi says nothing. He's about to straighten up with a dramatic sigh when he feels the soft pads of Akaashi's slender fingertips laying across his shoulders. He turns his head as far as he can and shoots his boyfriend a victorious grin. 

"Just this once," Akaashi warns, and then he's pushing himself into the air and grabbing ahold around broad shoulders. His legs come to wrap around Bokuto's waist, feet interlocking, and Bokuto stands, amazed at how little he has to work to do so. 

Bokuto shoots the best side-eye that he can over his shoulder. "If you ever tell me that you're too heavy for things, I'll pick you up and walk around with you over my shoulder. Like a fireman."

"Is that so?" Akaashi's voice dances with mild humor, and Bokuto's sure that if he was able to see his eyes, he could find the gleams of quiet laughter as well. "Well, I just may have to call myself heavy from now on, if it means that you'll carry me from room to room."

"You would abuse my love for you like that?" Bokuto whines, but there's no real hurt in his voice. A private smile creeps up his lips once again, and his chest feels full of dogwood petals and sweet summer air.

Akaashi nods against the side of his neck; his hair tickles the bare skin there, but rather than shying away from the feeling, Bokuto finds himself leaning into it. "Absolutely."

"That's okay. I'd let you."

\-----

It's a clear night, thankfully. If it wasn't, they would have had to just trudge back to their dorm and spend the rest of it curled up together on the couch. Really, that doesn't sound all that bad - actually, it sounds very nice - but they don't often get to stargaze, so Bokuto's glad that this panned out. 

They sit just out from under the shade of the large tree at the top of the hill, enough to enjoy the twinkling lights above them. Bokuto sits first, then opens his legs into a V-shape and pats the space it creates. Akaashi wordlessly obliges, settling contentedly against his chest. 

No words are spoken for a few minutes. It's just the two of them and the humming of crickets from somewhere they can't quite see and the rustling of leaves above with the gentle summer air. They don't speak because they don't need to. Bokuto doesn't have to say anything or reply o anything said to him - the sensation of Akaashi's chest rising and falling in time with his own is enough, for now. 

The wisps of Akaashi's inky hair catch the soft rays of moonlight, set alight with the demure silver hues. Again, Bokuto is struck by his easy grace. If Bokuto was a painter, he would never go anywhere without his paints and canvas. He would take them wherever he went, in the hopes that he could catch a glimpse of the handsome man with the raven-colored hair. He would use his likeness to show the world what love looks like, how it flows like the tresses of black hair and glimmers like the mirth in green-blue eyes and curls like the corners of soft pink lips at the telling of a joke. 

Of course, he would never tell Akaashi these things. He'd die of shame; they'd stumble and fall out of his mouth all wrong, clumsy and unpracticed. But maybe Akaashi would understand anyways, like he always seems to. Rather than ponder this further, Bokuto elects to let his forehead fall forward to meet the back of Akaashi's head.

"I love you, 'Kaashi," he murmurs, lips shaping and reshaping the words against the locks of Akaashi's soft hair. 

Akaashi's voice doesn't come for another few seconds. When it does, it's pressed against Bokuto's shoulder, his face warm even through the fabric of the shirt. "You can call me Keiji, if you'd like."

Bokuto fights down the urge to launch himself forward and send them tumbling down the hill together. His ribs feel too small for what beats underneath. He struggles to find the right words, but grasps at them anyways, taking what he can. "Keiji, Keiji. Keiji, you are so beautiful."

"Bokuto-san-"

"Koutarou," Bokuto corrects him gently, pressing a kiss to the top of his head.

"Koutarou," Akaashi - Keiji - repeats, "you're beautiful too."

 _He doesn't get it_ , Koutarou thinks, and shakes his head. How could he? How could Keiji even begin to see what he really looks like, how his voice really sounds when he allows himself to truly laugh? 

So he pushes. "No, but you're beautiful. Your eyes and your nose and your hands, and your voice and hair and the birthmark on your back and _everything_ , Keiji. The way you walk, and the way you hold a pencil, and the way you hold the key to unlock the front door. I could look at you for like, forever, and never want to stop doing it."

Keiji's now grabbed two fistfuls of his shirt and buried his face there. His ears are red at the tips, flushed with pleased embarrassment. He says something there, but it's pressed too tightly to Koutarou's chest to understand.

"What?" Koutarou prods.

Gunmetal eyes peer up at him, pools of green and blue sparking in the light of the moon. His face is the color of a sun-ripened strawberry. "I said, 'you've never seen yourself when you spike a volleyball.'"

Koutarou cocks his head, brows furrowed in confusion. "But I have. I used to watch tapes of all of my school's games so I could do better."

"No, I mean in person." Keiji's eyes still manage to pierce through walls he doesn't even know he has. "It's as if you can fly."

It's now Koutarou's turn to flush a deep red. He scrunches his whole face together in an effort to drive the color away, but it just makes him look like he's very warm and took a bite of a particularly sour lemon. He gives up after a moment, resigns himself to his appearance. "Keiji, you're going to kill me!"

"All we did was play a couple of sets with our friends, and even then it seemed like you had wings. The way you hit the ball is like you were made for it," Keiji continues. He tucks a stray strand of hair behind his ear, where it blossoms into a sweet curl. "I wish I could have set for you in high school. You're like a shooting star."

_Someone save me from this guy. He's going to make me explode._

Oh, how Keiji looks so splendidly honest. His eyes betray no mockery or sarcasm; it's all honeyed admiration and love. Koutarou's dam of resolve breaks. He launches forward, angling his body so as to keep them from being tossed down the hill's grassy slope, and instead sends them both giggling into each other's arms amongst the crickets and clover. 

"Keiji, we would have gone places together!" Koutarou cries into where his head is pressed against the raven's soft stomach. The warmth there sends a pleasant sunny feeling spiraling underneath his skin. "I would have given you nationals!"

Trimmed fingernails skate through his now thoroughly-mussed hair, sweeping it this way and that with no real direction. "I would have let the world see how you fly. There'd be nobody to stop you."

"And I would give you the trophy, so you would always know that nobody could take me higher than you!" He's quiet for a moment, thinking, as if his admiration for Keiji takes much thought at all. "I love you so much!"

"I know," Keiji replies, not as a smartass comment or joke. He knows that Koutarou loves him, Koutarou can see it, and nothing makes him happier than that. "I love you too."

They finally slump back and Koutarou wiggles his way over to lay at Keiji's side. "Hey, what do you think that clump of stars over there looks like?"

"You mean constellation?"

"Hey, I know what those are! I'm not _that_ clueless! I mean like how people find shapes in clouds. What does that clump of stars remind you of?"

"I don't really know. Does it remind you of anything?"

"A snail."

"A snail?"

"Yeah. See, there's its shell, and there are its eye-things. A snail."

"Oh, I can see it. I think he'd be glad that you recognized him."

"Yeah, I think so too! Okay, what about those stars over there?"

"Hmm, they look rather like a wine bottle."

"You just _had_ to pick a way classier answer than me, didn't you?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

Keiji's lips tip upward in a sly smile, alerting Koutarou to the fact that he does, in fact, know exactly what Koutarou's talking about. 

\-----

Their dorm isn't as chilly as the air outside, so they're both quick to change into cooler clothes when they enter. It's really just plain unfair that Keiji can look so composed when he's dressed in high school club sweatpants and a worn black shirt with a hole in the corner. Koutarou would look raggedy as all hell, but Keiji manages to make the ensemble look like something out of a lovely dream. 

"How do you do that?" Koutarou asks, jabbing an index finger in the direction of the outfit. It probably looks like he's just pointing at Keiji's chest (which is also extremely nice in its own right, but not the subject of his jealous admiration at the moment).

Evidently, his wonderful articulation didn't do much in the way of explaining. "Do what?"

"Look so-" Koutarou grumbles as he struggles to find the best words. "Nice, all the time. I would look homeless if I wore my high school sweatpants and a shirt with a hole in it, but you could still be on the front page of a magazine."

Keiji chuckles. "I think there's a saying out there about rose-colored glasses, but something in me doubts that it would apply. It's the same for me, though. I think you look absolutely amazing right now, even though you're wearing basketball shorts."

"They're comfortable, alright?" Koutarou protests, but he's too late to quell the laughter. "I don't wear them to look cool!" 

"I'm glad you don't. They're a truly stunning shade of neon green."

\-----

They fall asleep on the couch together as some B-grade romance movie flickers in the background. Koutarou's head is pressed into Keiji's chest, comforted by the rhythm of his heart and the feeling of Keiji's arms wrapping him in a gentle embrace. He knows in the back of his mind that tomorrow will bring a stiff neck and probably a whopping headache, but there's nothing in him that cares. He's happy, and Keiji's happy, and that's what matters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i LAGGED on this one. we got a dog, and then i got genshin (and blasted out like, three hours a day playing it), and then i read the song of achilles last night all in one sitting and bawled my eyes out and to make myself feel better finally got around to writing the 4500 words of fluff that is this chapter. 
> 
> also holy shit, i planned out the last bit of this fic and we only have five chapters left! which like, that's still quite a bit of writing, but this fic has been my baby for the last six months and i can't believe it's in the final stretch. 
> 
> as usual, thank you for all the love <3


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which something begins and another comes to a close.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey heeeey it's been a while eh?

"Ah, man," Bokuto groans, slumping lower on Kuroo's shoulder. "Summer's over already, and now I have to worry about things like math again."

Kuroo peers down at him, trademark smirk already beginning to slip up his lips. "At least you have a lovely young fella to perk you right up when you feel down, eh?"

"You make me sound like a creep when you talk like that!"

"Just telling it as it is!"

"Don't be jealous because you haven't got the balls to ask Kenma out for real yet! I see right through that sneaky grin of yours!" Bokuto squawks, reveling in the way his friend blanches. "Oh ho, struck a chord, did I?"

Kuroo wrinkles his nose, shaking his head all too vigorously for a man who's attempting to look genuine. "Not a chance, Bo. You're definitely delusional."

"Uh huh," Bokuto deadpans, prodding the arm next to him with an index finger. "Anyways, feel free to come to the love expert for advice when you finally decide to make a move."

A gust of wind sends multicolored leaves whirling through the near-autumn air, tumbling across the concrete and coming to a rest against Bokuto's left shoe. He looks up for a moment, allowing himself some silent admiration of the birds that dance so easily overhead. _It would be so sick if I could fly. I would dive-bomb tourists and cool things like that._

Unfortunately, he can't fly, so that means that he has to be a Good Friend and repay the debt he owes Kuroo for putting up with his pining for months. He pokes Kuroo again. "I mean it. He likes you, man. He looks at you differently from how he looks at other people."

"I dunno," Kuroo groans, slumping forward. The fabric of his pants crease along the slats of the wooden bench they've taken up residence on. "What if I screw it all up and lose our friendship?"

Bokuto rolls his eyes so hard that he's pretty sure he caught a glimpse of a few brain wrinkles. "First of all, like I said, he likes you. Second, how shallow do you think he is? No way in hell would he give his best friend up over something like your feelings for him!" 

Kuroo sighs, but cracks a half-smile that tells Bokuto that he's on the path to success. "You're right. He's cooler than that. Maybe I will tell him."

He's then immediately jostled as Bokuto leaps up, grabbing ahold of his shoulders and using them to shake him back and forth. His hair flops wildly with the motions. When Bokuto lets go, he's greeted with the sight of Kuroo's mouth pressed into a thin line, but that's nothing to slow his roll.

"That's the spirit, dude! Okay, time to start planning! What should the plan name be?"

"We are not naming it."

"Yes we are!"

A pause. 

"Operation: Catnip?"

Another pause. 

"You know, because we were the cats, and cats like catni-"

"Yeah, I get it. We'll mark it down as a working title, bro."

\-----

Soft strands of guitar float through Fukurodani's interior, accompanied by the merry twinkling of the fairy lights that line its walls and ceiling. The sky outside is dark; as the months turned, the usual early darkening of the sky wasn't far behind. Bokuto's never been particularly fond of it - he much prefers the warm summer days when the sun sits high until 8:00 - but this means he gets to kiss Akaashi under the cover of night more often now. 

Just as his seventh Akaashi-centric thought of the past ten minutes barrels through his brain, the doorbell chimes. His eyes travel up to land on the raven-haired form that steps in, bundled in a navy-blue coat. Akaashi's hair is wind-tousled, flicking up this way and that from his trip to the cafe. 

"Keiji!" He calls from across the counter, attracting glances of nearby customers. Really, they should be used to this by now. 

Blue-green eyes sparkle with merriment behind the lenses of half-rimmed glasses. "Hello, Koutarou."

Oh, how Bokuto loves when Akaashi says his name like that. It's like his name suddenly becomes something worthy of a poetry line, like it's something to be cherished rather than a collection of syllables thrown together to mean something. "You look great, 'Ji."

"And _you_ look like you're not working," Suga hisses from a few feet away, hands cupped around your mouth. "Believe it or not, we actually do pay you to do things here."

Akaashi chuckles at the paleness that washes across Bokuto's face. It's quickly swiped away and replaced with a complacent grin. "Aye aye, captain! So what can I do you for, my wonderful boyfriend?"

"The usual, please," Akaashi replies, his lips never leaving their place in that world-altering smile. His teeth nearly _sparkle_ , for god's sake - does he somehow brush them with a different toothpaste made for deities, or is he just naturally gifted with good looks everywhere? 

Bokuto slams his jaw shut to prevent himself from looking like a skewered fish. "Got it! Hinata, Akaashi's usual, stat!" 

"Roger!" Hinata chirps, whirling around to prepare the drinks station. His tongue pokes out of the corner of his mouth as he begins to pour foam into a mug, always careful to never spill so much as a drop. 

Well, he's mightily dedicated for a guy who makes a scant amount of money pouring bean juice for hours at a time. Bokuto will sure as hell give him that.

Akaashi collects his drink, making idle conversation with the redhead for a few moments. Hinata beams wide enough to split his face in half when some sort of joke causes the raven to chuckle into the back of his hand. It's an understandable feeling, really; Bokuto would happily dress up like a clown-themed prostitute if it meant being able to garner a laugh from Akaashi. 

Well, maybe the clown-prostitute hybrid wouldn't really be Akaashi's style, but he would still give it a go. 

"You're fawning again," Suga huffs, evidently doing his best to look like someone had just vomited in front of him. "It's disgusting."

"I know," Bokuto fawns. 

\-----

As it turns out, Operation: Catnip (which had been renamed, and then renamed again, and then eventually returned to its original title) had been entirely unnecessary. 

Kenma had apparently gotten fed up with his friend's constant skittering around the increasing tension and, in Kuroo's words, "just stormed over and kissed me halfway into my speech about why the special effects in the movie we were watching made no sense."

It turned out to be entirely befitting of the both of them. Bokuto had even seen them walking to their respective classes a few days later, hands clutched tightly together as Kuroo did his best to swing their arms back and forth hard enough to rip them out of their respective sockets. Kenma had been scowling at the ordeal, but since he had then gone to wrap an arm around Kuroo's side, Bokuto figured that he wasn't really very mad. 

Naturally, Oikawa had been extremely obnoxious about the whole thing, but it was probably a long time coming. He had flitted around Kuroo's side for a full half hour, reminding him constantly about how he had told Kuroo to make a move "way sooner." Daichi had eventually told him to shut up and be supportive, which Oikawa had subsequently taken to the next extreme. 

"'Congrats on not being a coward anymore,'" Bokuto reads aloud. "How thoughtful of him!"

"I'm gonna kill him," Kuroo mutters from between his hands. 

Kenma pokes a finger into the light blue icing and brings it up to his mouth. "The frosting's good, at least."

The small cake ends up being chocolate-flavored. It also ends up being demolished by four male university students over the course of an hour. 

\-----

Koutarou puts all of his strength into wrenching Keiji from where he sits at the desk. He's met with an expression that can only be described as a mix of bewilderment and exasperation, but he's known Keiji long enough to be aware that it holds little real irritation. When he's successfully heaved Keiji to his feet, he spares no time in subsequently moving to wrap both arms around his waist. 

"What are you doing?" Keiji's voice rises in pitch as he's hauled into the air and over his boyfriend's shoulder. "I can walk just fine, Koutarou."

Koutarou manages to shoot a cheeky grin to the side, successfully ignoring the way Keiji's eyes scrunch behind the lenses of his glasses. "I know! But what are these arms for if I'm not using 'em to shower my boyfriend in affection?"

He marches them both over to the couch, plopping Keiji down into the middle with a satisfied exhale. He's then quick to launch himself into place beside the raven, throwing an arm around Keiji's shoulders. 

"Well, since you've evidently decided that I've studied enough for one night, why don't you choose?" Keiji asks with a smile, holding the tiny remote as offering. Koutarou can feel his entire everything melting inside, so he does his best to keep his matching grin from reaching levels of maximum dorkiness. 

He takes the remote with an exaggerated bow. "Why, of course! You pick the type, though."

Keiji's answer is immediate, as is Koutarou's mood shift. "Horror."

Koutarou feels his face fall flat. "But 'Ji, you know that I act super lame when I get wigged out!" 

"I know," Keiji replies. A slow smile begins to creep up at the corners; Koutarou's seen it enough times to know that his boyfriend is absolutely planning something that'll send him bowing at the waist to comply. As if on cue, his eyes grow fractionally wider, gaze just verging on a plea. "But what if I watch without you and don't have anyone to keep me from being scared?"

Logically, Koutarou knows that this is just another masterful ploy to get him to cave and watch another movie that will inevitably shatter his manly ego. He also knows that Keiji doesn't scare easily, much less at cheap horror movies. 

Lastly, Koutarou knows that he is a huge sucker for his boyfriend, especially when he pulls that pleading expression that Koutarou was so quick to use on others in the past. He's just so cute that it works every time. 

"Fine," he acquiesces. He narrows his gaze as he punches the buttons on the remote with much more vigor than necessary. "But you have to hold my hand the whole time, okay?"

Keiji seemingly attempts to muffle a laugh by pretending to cough instead. It is horribly unsuccessful and Koutarou continues to bash the remote as an outlet for his endless humiliation. "Of course. That way I won't get scared so easily."

"Yeah!" Koutarou nods his assent. At least his boyfriend is kind enough to be accommodating without mockery, like so many others would be. "I'm glad we agree!"

Twenty minutes into the movie that Keiji had found for them to watch, Koutarou already feels as though every muscle in his body is being pulled taught with a wire. Nobody's even died yet, and there's been little terrifying imagery past the occasional blip of darkness moving in the back, but he's on the edge of his seat. 

A too-loud breath and a snap sound from the screen, and he feels himself shudder with the next inhale. Beside him, he can see Keiji tensing, blue-green eyes trained only on him. He knows that Koutarou's stress levels are rising accordingly. _Of course I get the super perceptive boyfriend_ , Koutarou laments, but allows a twinge of affection to run its course. It's sweet of Keiji to be so concerned about how he handles things. 

As the movie progresses, slowly building to the middle (where the inevitable humiliation will truly begin), Koutarou notices that Keiji gradually moves his head to rest on his shoulder. It's subtle, present only in the tiny shifts that occur every few minutes or so, but it's there, and it's more than welcomed. The constant reminder of his presence is enough to ground Koutarou slightly. 

He cards a hand through locks of inky black. "Scared yet?"

"Almost," Keiji replies, this time making no attempt to mask the way he shifts closer. Koutarou's heart thrums in his chest for all the right reasons. "You being here certainly helps."

Koutarou nods, satisfied. He allows his head to drop to rest on Keiji's, nuzzling slightly into the softness of his hair. Keiji smells fresh and mutedly sweet, soft and natural. It's quickly becoming one of Koutarou's favorite scents in the entire world (though when it comes to Keiji, there's seldom any real competition).

The movie progresses at a pace that is both too painfully slow and terrifyingly fast for Koutarou's liking. He finds himself jolting at every loud noise, shivering at random scrabbling sounds. Keiji seemingly takes every motion into account and adjusts accordingly until he is all but in Koutarou's lap. 

Then the crux of the movie rears its awful head, and it's all Koutarou can do to hold his face in a (hopefully) placid line. Unfortunately, it does nothing to fool his fellow viewer. 

"Hey," Keiji whispers. "I don't like this part."

"Really? Do you want to skip it?" Koutarou replies, all too hopeful.

Keiji shakes his head, sending all foolish hope shattering on the floor. "Will you hold me a bit?"

Hope restored. So much hope. Koutarou could start a fucking hope bank and never run out of loans to give people. Hell, he could just start up a mutual aid hope foundation. He is the _man_. 

"Of course!" He crows. "I'll even do you one better!"

Keiji makes a noise of surprise when Koutarou slips a hand under each arm and uses them to pry him a little higher onto his lap. He wraps both arms around Keiji's midsection and nudges their foreheads together, noses touching briefly. Shy grins erupt across both of their faces before they're leaning in to press their lips together for a moment.

When he pulls back, Koutarou feels a familiar heat creep up his face and the tips of his ears. "Did that help?"

Keiji furrows his brow. "I'm not sure. It was too short to tell; I'll need another try to be certain."

"Oh!" Koutarou chirps. "Let me help!"

They lean in again, smiles bumping against one another in their easy giddiness. Keiji's lips are rosy and soft, slowly growing pinker as they trade kisses back and forth. Koutarou allows his arms to wrap tighter around Keiji's slender waist, pulling him ever closer. It's like they're attempting to fuse together at the chest, living forever in a sweet embrace. 

Before Koutarou knows it, the movie is over. He presses a victorious kiss to Keiji's forehead with an exaggerated _smack_ "We made it!"

"We made it!" He cheers, pumping a fist in the air. 

Keiji nods approvingly. "That we did."

They take turns washing up for bed. Getting changed is always a tumultuous affair, as Koutarou seemingly can never keep his cool whenever his boyfriend moves to do anything so much as undo a button along his collar, but he manages to hide his insistent flush as best as he can. In turn, he changes as quickly as possible, not wanting Keiji to see any of the small imperfections that litter his torso and legs. 

Obviously, underwear is always changed in the privacy of the bathroom. Koutarou would probably drop dead otherwise. 

When they're finally curled into bed, wrapped lazily around one another in a tangle of limbs and light breathing, Koutarou reaches over to flick the lights off. They begin to doze off, covered by the blankets that rest easily over them. 

Then Keiji's phone buzzes.

Koutarou moves to sit up and reach over blindly for it on the table beside the bed, but Keiji quickly waves him off with an "I'll check tomorrow."

The buzzing stops for a moment as the call ends. No more than three seconds later, it buzzes to life again. Keiji huffs, but makes no effort to ask Koutarou to grab it. Naturally, Koutarou will never be one to protest ignoring a phone call in favor of cuddling with his boyfriend, so he dutifully ignores it again. 

They make it to the third round of buzzing before Keiji is wrenching himself upright. Koutarou is quick to follow, scooting so his back presses against the wall. He reaches groggily for Keiji's phone and presses it into the raven's hand without looking at the screen. His hand fumbles in trying to turn the lights on, but after a few well places slaps to the wall the lamp blinks to life.

Keiji rubs his eyes, blinking irritably. He scratches at his neck before peering down at the screen. In a split second, his face goes sickeningly pale. 

Koutarou feels his stomach lurch; he's never seen that expression on his boyfriend's face before. It doesn't look right on his features. They're all twisted into an unreadable expression that betrays only an immense level of concern. 

"I have to take this," Keiji says, voice dry and barely above a whisper.

Koutarou nods hurriedly, swallowing down the lump that's quickly forming in the column of his throat. He shuffles awkwardly off of the bed, allowing Keiji to rise to his feet. He looks awfully small in the midnight light; his hands tremble as he swipes to accept the call and as they reach to turn the knob for the front door. 

He's out of their dorm in a flash of white and gray. The cloistering feeling of dread has really begun to settle in Koutarou's veins, thick in his chest and stomach. Keiji has never - not once - ever looked so shaken up before. 

A minute passes, and then two. Koutarou begins to lose track of time; all he's truly aware of is how easily chills pass through his body. They're not just the products of worry, either - the air that floats through their dorm carries a vicious bite that whispers of colder months to come. 

_It's probably freezing outside._ Koutarou shivers, pulling the blankets closer around him. 

After what couldn't possibly be any less time than an entire eternity, the front door opens with a deceptively light click. Keiji steps inside, face pale and lower lip shaking with a barely-there tremor. He looks frail, as if a stray gust of wind could carry him off at any moment. 

Koutarou's stomach drops like a stone in a pond. In a flash, he's at Keiji's side, quick to clasp a now-cold hand in his own. "'Ji, what's wrong? Are you okay? Can I help?"

"It's-" Keiji's voice breaks, unsteady. His eyes flutter rapidly, trying to flick away the beginnings of crystalline tears. Koutarou feels his own breaths grow heavy. Ever the warrior, never one to give into his own emotions, and it seems as though a single phone call was enough to push him to the edge. Keiji seemingly forces his lips into a straight line that falls very, very short of convincing. "It's my mom."

The weight of his words drop through the freezing air and crash to the floor. Everything feels too tight, too cold. It's hard to find breaths, but Koutarou steels himself. The words he's searching for cruelly elude him. "Is she-"

"She isn't dead." Glassy tears well in the corners of Keiji's eyes, framed by thick black lashes. He looks terribly beautiful, even now. Koutarou wishes that he could take every ounce of pain that flickers there and press it into his own ribs. "But she's dying."

"Oh, Keiji." 

Words continue to fail him, dancing arrogantly out of reach. How could he even begin to console someone he loves so much in this moment? What good could he possibly do?

Keiji wipes furiously at his eyes, but to Koutarou's distress, the tears continue to well there before trickling in quiet streams down his cheeks. "I'm okay. I-I need to go. I need to be there."

"Okay," Koutarou manages, for once unwilling to entertain the notion of asking him to stay. Even he isn't that oblivious. "I can help you pack. Tell me what you need."

"I need-"

His voice breaks again.

"I need-"

Koutarou, in a fraction of a second, pulls him into the tightest embrace he can muster. He stays there, arms clinging to Keiji's shaking form as if he's a lifeline, as the other begins to heave dry sobs into his chest. He brings a hand up to press the back of his head closer, bringing all of Keiji into him.

At some point, he feels his eyes begin to water as well. They stand there, muffling shaky intakes of breath into each other's shoulders and arms and neck, until their eyes are red and puffy. Koutarou pulls away momentarily to examine Keiji's face and feels a fresh wave of heartbreak crash over him at the sight of his lover's pale, tearstained complexion.

When they're too exhausted to shed any more tears, Koutarou leads Keiji to his bed. He prods the raven gently, drawing the covers aside and allowing him to slip in. 

"I have to pack," Keiji whispers hoarsely. 

Koutarou presses a gentle kiss to each cheek. "Sleep. I'll pack for you."

Another tear slips down Keiji's face, quickly kissed away. "Thank you, Koutarou. I love you."

"I love you too, 'Ji," he replies, words catching mournfully on his tongue. "I'll see you in the morning."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes. i suck. i come back after another ridiculously long break and upload a short-ass chapter that ends with Bad News and then inevitably fuck off into the void for another week and a half. i hate me too >:l
> 
> my excuse for my shitty update timing? the 12,000 word sakuatsu lesbian fic that took up like a whole week of my time. [curtains close with a flourish]


End file.
